


Trilateral Negotiations

by gblvr, Sihaya Black (beledibabe)



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Multi, Threesome, star trek big bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-03
Updated: 2009-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-02 13:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gblvr/pseuds/gblvr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/beledibabe/pseuds/Sihaya%20Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim convinces Bones to have a threesome with Chekov, Jim never imagines he could end up being the one left out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trilateral Negotiations

**Author's Note:**

> This evolved from a conversation about Star Trek, sex, the relative hotness of various pairings, and the ratio of sex-to-plot necessary for a coherent story. We may not have achieved coherence with this story, but we did manage to include a lot of sex. We'd like to thank our betas (elmyraemilie, kisahawklin, libitina and meansgirl); their help was invaluable, but as always, all mistakes are our own.
> 
> This was written as part of the 2009 Star Trek Big Bang, hosted on LiveJournal. Accompanying the story was [art by slodwick](http://slodwick.livejournal.com/1085039.html) and [a soundtrack by shopfront](http://shopfront.dreamwidth.org/317966.html) \-- all *very* awesome.

"Jesus, Jim!" I gasp.

He slams into me, hard. Fire races up my spine, down my thighs. I'm a doctor; I know exactly which nerves are affected, why my body's responding like this, and I don't give a damn about the physiological explanation. I close my eyes and brace myself.

His fingers dig into my hips and he holds me steady for another thrust.

This one strikes true. I groan -- no words, not now. Not with every millimeter of my body buzzing and fizzing like a bottle of shaken beer.

He bites off a shout of triumph. Bastard knows me too damned well after three years of friendship and fucking.

I press my forehead against the sheets and groan as he pulls almost all the way out. No one fucks like Jim Kirk: hard, fast, and so damned focused it's like being drilled with an energy beam.

And then the whole shebang is over in about five minutes and he's on his way.

He nails me again, right on the sweet spot. I grab my dick and squeeze hard. Don't want to come yet. If I come it'll be over, he'll... Hell. Time to pull out my number one distraction card.

"So," I groan as he grinds his dick into my ass. "Where were you last night?"

Another twist of his hips makes me shudder, just like he intends. God, I'm putty in this man's hands.

He laughs, low and so filthy I wonder whether he really did turn tricks before joining Starfleet, as he sometimes claims.

"You like that," he says, panting between words. "You like to hear about me screwing Johannsen, or M'beki, or Toc'nec."

I grunt. He can take that as agreement, if he wants. I don't give a shit about Johannsen or M'beki or Toc'nec. No, that's not true. I do give a shit about them -- just not the way Jim thinks.

"Johannsen has those breasts," he says, pumping hard, threatening to unravel me despite the distraction. "You remember breasts, Bones. Hell, you were married; you know 'em up close and personal. So soft and suckable. She really likes it when I... "

I stop listening; I wanted distraction, not punishment. The knowledge that Jim was out with Johannsen last night is enough to step me back from the edge. He's close, though -- I can tell. His rhythm breaks, stutters. Almost there.

His voice washes over me, as rough as mountain hooch but with a sweetness...

Ah, hell. That thought sends me up, up, and over the top without even touching my dick.

Jim groans and pushes deep, makes that noise that means he's coming, too. He leans over me, sweating, panting, pressing close. I squeeze my eyes shut, hold still, holding on. But that's not the way Jim works. I know that. I _know_ it. I accept it.

Have to accept it. I don't have a choice, not if I want even this much. I made that decision three years ago.

Doesn't take long before Jim peels himself off my back and pulls out. Gives me a smack on the ass.

"I don't miss breasts when I have this," he says, then climbs off the bed.

I flop down with a grunt. My knees ache, my ass burns, but damn, it was worth it. I think. I yawn and roll onto my back, tug the sheet over me.

Jim's already across the room, pulling on his trousers.

"Where're you off to?" I ask, keeping my question casual.

He flashes me a great big ol' Jim Kirk grin. "Got to get more fodder for those stories you like so much." His face disappears as he pulls his shirt over his head, and I cover my eyes with my arm. Shit. Not what I wanted to hear.

"Have fun."

"You bet," he says. "See you later, Bones."

The door slides shut. I don't bother to watch him leave.

# # #

Jim leaves Bones sprawled out under the covers, fucked out and sleepy. He's jittery, keyed-up, and he knows he won't be sleeping anytime soon. After a quick run through the sonic shower, he re-dresses and goes to the lounge on Deck Ten for a drink. There's always someone there who can't sleep, who's interested in a quickie to take off the edge.

He orders a beer and a shot of Jack, and leans against the bar, checking out who's actually there. _Interesting_. Gaila and Scotty are arguing again -- Scotty is gesturing between them, and though Jim can't hear what he's saying, he can tell it's angry from the way his voice rises and falls as he points at Gaila's chest. If past experience is anything to go by, Gaila's been caught bedding someone from Engineering -- Scotty might be willing to look the other way when Gaila is indiscreet, but he isn't about to do it when the indiscretion is someone on his own staff. He watches as the argument escalates, then abruptly ends, as Scotty throws back the last of his drink and walks off without a backward glance.

He downs the shot and waits a minute or so, to see if Scotty's coming back. When it appears he isn't going to, Jim crosses the lounge and joins Gaila, who looks like a thundercloud.

"So... do I want to know?"

"Captain." Jim raises an eyebrow at that, and Gaila says, "Jim. No, you do not want to know."

"Looked pretty heated to me... ."

Gaila snorts into her drink. "When is it not heated with him? If it's not 'Lass, I love ye just as you are,' it's him wanting me to be something I'm not -- he needs to make up his mind."

Jim just nods and makes a non-committal 'hmm' -- he isn't interested in getting into someone else's domestic issues -- he just wants to fuck until he's tired enough to sleep.

"You wanna?" she asks. And again he thinks Gaila must be a mind reader or something, because he is about to suggest they find somewhere more private.

Jim finishes off the rest of his beer, and stands, waiting while Gaila drinks the rest of the syrupy liquid in her glass.

#

Sex with Gaila is always energetic and hot (though not as hot as with Bones) and he never has to worry she's going to want to stay the night. After the 'I think I love you' incident at the Academy, they'd come to an unspoken agreement -- she wouldn't mention the 'L' word, and he wouldn't ask how many guys she'd had back to her room. It works well -- Gaila loves everything about sex, and Jim has yet to ask her for something she won't do -- and there are no expectations on either of their parts.

They're barely inside her quarters when she starts to strip off, revealing lacy non-regulation undergarments in a bright pink that clashes with the green of her skin. Jim doesn't wait for an invitation -- he crowds her against the bulkhead, kissing her even as he's slipping his hand into her panties, pushing his fingers into her and grinding the heel of his hand against her clit. She's already wet, and Jim grins when she tugs his zipper down and wraps a leg up and around his hip.

He squirms enough to pull his pants and briefs down before he pulls the edge of her panties aside and drives up into her cunt. He fucks her hard, holding her against the wall while she wraps her legs around his waist. When it''s over his thighs are killing him, but he makes sure Gaila's come at least twice before he leaves her boneless on the bed.

#

A couple of nights later, Jim is in the same lounge, leaning against the bar, watching the same people drinking and talking and fighting. Ensign Chekov had come in, parked on one of the stools, and ordered a bottle of Andorian mineral water that he'd nursed for the last hour. He and Jim had exchanged nods, but nothing was said beyond Chekov's "Captain," until Chekov hastily downed the rest of his drink, and ordered a vodka, neat.

"Bóodeem zdaróvye!" With that he throws back the shot, and orders another.

Jim is puzzled -- he's never seen Chekov drink on board. In fact, he can only remember seeing Chekov drink once, a flute of champagne someone had forced on him at the reception Starfleet had held in their honor after the battle with the Narada. Jim has no doubt Chekov drinks, but Jim suspects he does it in the privacy of his quarters, or down in Engineering while he and Scotty are knee-deep in warp-core theory and tall tales. He watches as Chekov sips his second shot.

"So... what's the occasion?"

"Captain?" Chekov looks startled.

Jim shrugs a bit and says, "I've only seen you drink in public once, so I figure there's got to be some occasion."

"Oh. It is my birthday." Chekov pauses and sits up straighter. "I am now eighteen."

"Happy birthday, Chekov." Jim raises his glass in a toast. "Why aren't you out celebrating with your friends, instead of hanging out in here?"

"Oh, well it is only just my birthday, and I wanted to have a drink by myself. I am not supposed to know, but there is a party for me later, in one of the Rec rooms."

Jim watches Chekov's mouth as he talks, fascinated with the way his lips purse as he struggles to shape the vowels and consonants of Standard. He'd been fascinated by the kid when they first met, but figured he was too young for the kind of fun Jim was interested in. The last several months have proven that even though he's young, Chekov is mature for his age, and anyone who didn't recognize him as a man is in for a surprise when they start to talk to him.

"Captain?"

Jim startles, realizes he is staring, and forces down the blush he knows is coming. "Sorry, I was... "

"You were watching my mouth." Chekov's grin is sly as he looks up at Jim through the fringe of his lashes.

Surely the kid isn't coming on to him? Jim blinks, watches as Chekov's tongue darts out to wet his lip, and then as he catches his bottom lip between his teeth. _He is._

Well, two can play that game. "Your mouth is quite lovely." Jim leans in, brushes his thumb over Chekov's bottom lip. "You've got cocksucking lips, and I'm wondering how they'd feel wrapped around my dick." Jim watches as Chekov flushes, and drops his gaze to Jim's mouth, and that's when it hits him -- he's going there, and he's going to take Bones along for the ride.

"How do you feel about threesomes?"

Chekov slides off his stool and steps back. Jim follows, until he's standing flush against Chekov, who is pressed to the bar. "Captain?"

"Don't you trust me?"

"I…yes, Captain, I do."

Jim claps his hand to Chekov's shoulder. "Drink up then, and follow me."

# # #

I put down the report and rub my eyes. Too many reports to file after that debacle on Catullus VI, and not enough hours in the day. I suppose we should be grateful that the injured are recovering and no one was killed, especially not our idiotic hero of a Captain.

Still, that's water under the bridge. Time to shut up shop for the night. It's been a long day and it's late.

The corridors are quiet between shifts, and I make it to my quarters after dispensing a few nods to passing crew. Thank God no one wants to pull me aside and ask about some weird rash or why they're peeing green. As soon as the door closes behind me I strip off my uniform and pull on a tee-shirt and pair of soft pants.

Washing my hands and face takes only a minute, and I yawn as I set the alarm. My bed beckons like a Greek Siren. God, I'm so tired.

The door chimes.

Damn.

Not sickbay. They would've contacted me first if there was a medical emergency. I know who it is, and what he wants.

I stumble to the door. No way am I letting him in tonight. If he wanted to get together for a quick fuck he should have called me earlier.

I open the door and yep, Jim's standing in the corridor, grinning like a cat who's swallowed a canary. But... I blink. Jim's arm is draped around the shoulders of Ensign Chekov, and he's got the kid pressed tightly against his side. Chekov's blushing, glancing wide-eyed from Jim to me and back again.

Don't tell me he's fucking _Chekov_. Is he even legal? I sigh. Only Jim Kirk would show up at my door with his most recent... whatever he is. Now I need a drink.

"Bones!" Jim's smile grows wider. "Aren't you going to invite us in?"

I drag a hand over my face. "Listen, Jim, it's been a long day, and I'm exhausted." And I don't need to have my nose rubbed in the fact that I'm not enough for you.

"I've got just the cure," he says, and before I can tell him to go away, he pushes past me, still holding onto the kid.

"Going to _sleep_ in my _bed_ is the best cure for fatigue." But I don't even know why I try; I can't put any heat into the words, not with Jim. I trail after him -- and the kid -- until he turns and faces me, still holding Chekov tight.

"I'm serious. This is just what the doctor ordered." He winks. "Today is Ensign Chekov's eighteenth birthday!"

"Happy birthday. If I'd known you were coming, I'd have baked a cake," I snap. Chekov ducks his head and mumbles something as I turn to Jim. "Now can I go to bed?"

"Sure. We'll join you." Jim grins. "I was telling Pavel about how good you are at blow jobs, and--"

"You _what_?" My face heats as I stare at him. I know Jim likes to talk about his other conquests, but I thought -- more the fool me -- that I was different.

Jim's smile dims. "Don't get bent out of shape, Bones. You give _great_ head -- God knows I've told you enough."

"Shit." I bury my face in my hands. "I didn't think you'd announce it to the world."

"Oh, c'mon, Pavel isn't--" His voice cuts off abruptly. There's a pause.

"Doctor McCoy." Chekov's voice breaks and he clears his throat. "When the Captain offered to. I thought you knew about it and... approved. I do not want you to assume an awkward position."

Jim snickers, and Chekov sounds as if he's choking.

I look up, fighting the grin that's trying to emerge. It's not particularly funny, but it's enough to break the tension. Chekov has a hand clapped over his mouth and his blush is, if anything, even deeper than before. Jim gazes at me, his eyes twinkling, damn him. He knows I'm going to cave, like I always do. What are my options? Say no fucking way, and have Jim give me his kicked puppy look? He'd leave with the kid and I'd be alone, thinking about what the two of them are up to.

And God, the two of them? Kissing? Sucking? Fucking? I have to admit, just picturing them together, all that smooth skin, those hot mouths and tight asses? Well, damn. Despite my exhaustion, I'm getting hard.

I glare at Jim just long enough to make him worry that I might say no -- I hope -- before turning to the kid. Time for me to take control. If Jim thinks he's the sole director of this little production, he's dead wrong. I'll play along for Jim's sake, but under my own terms. And one of those terms is to make Jim Kirk sorry he thought up this little scheme.

"Eighteen, huh?" I ignore Jim's sudden smile and take a step toward Chekov. "An important birthday. I can legally blow you or fuck you, if you want me to." Chekov lowers his hand, his eyes comically wide. I continue. "You want me to do that? Strip you naked and suck you until you come?"

Chekov gulps, nods, his gaze never leaving me. Jim moves behind him, pulls Chekov back against his chest.

I take another step, reach out and cup Chekov's face with one hand, rub my thumb over his lower lip. It's wet and soft, and my gut tightens.

"Or maybe I should bend you over the back of the chair and fuck you slow and deep, taking my time, until you're sweating and shaking and _begging_ for me to let you come."

"_Da_," he says, his voice a hoarse whisper, his hips grinding back against Jim.

Jim bites off a moan and I suppress a smile. Good. I want him to suffer.

I rub Chekov's lip again. "Which one do you want as your present? Suck? Or fuck?" I lean forward, tighten my hold on his jaw. "Or do you want both?"

Chekov's tongue darts out and touches my thumb. He's trembling, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"Both. _Please_."

"God, Bones! When did you become a porn star?" Jim's as flushed and bothered as Chekov. I don't smirk at him -- that would give the game away -- but I let my other hand run slowly down Chekov's shoulder and over Jim's arms. He's holding Chekov so tightly it's a wonder the kid can breathe.

I meet Jim's gaze and raise an eyebrow. "You inspire me."

The cocky grin returns, lighting up his expression. "I think that deserves a kiss," Jim says into Chekov's ear, his voice low, purring. Chekov starts to turn in his arms, but Jim holds him still. "No, Bones first."

Jim gazes at me, an intense look that makes me feel as if my skin's peeling back, exposing a lot more than my bones. I look away, at Chekov's flushed cheeks and wet lips. The kid's panting now, chest heaving under Jim's hard-muscled arms, his cock tenting his trousers. Beautiful, if you like 'em young and tender. Personally, I prefer a few miles on my men. Man.

I slide my hands to Chekov's shoulders, press our lips together. He opens eagerly, welcomes me in, and yeah, he's had some practice kissing, at least. Good. Complete novices are more trouble than they're worth. But Chekov's mouth is sweet, and I take my time exploring.

After a while, I can hear Jim panting in my ear. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He's staring at us, pupils blown, and my breath catches. God, I want him. I pull away, but the kid groans and leans forward, red lips following mine.

Turns out I want him, too, so I kiss Chekov a bit longer, slipping my hands down between his ass and Jim's hips. Jim's hard as a rock, and gasps when I rub my knuckles against his dick. I squeeze Chekov's ass and run the tips of my fingers between his cheeks, pressing the crease of his trousers firmly against his hole. He shudders and groans again.

My gut tightens and I pull away, just enough to murmur, "Your turn," to Jim. Jim loosens his hold and I push Chekov's shoulder, turning him around.

Jim doesn't waste any time. He and the kid kiss as I watch, and it's just as hot as I expected. I rub myself against Chekov's ass and he pushes back, his keening muffled by Jim's mouth.

Time to move this thing along. I reach around and unfasten Chekov's trousers. A tug and a shove and they're down to his knees, and now I can get my hands on all that silky skin.

Before I can do more than squeeze his ass a couple of times, Jim kisses his way along Chekov's jaw and glances at me, glassy-eyed.

"Want to watch," he gasps. "Want to watch you blow him."

Chekov says something in Russian that sounds a lot like "hell, yes!" He turns, awkward with his legs bound by his trousers, his dick hard, and reaches for me.

I guess Jim loses his patience, because he suddenly picks up Chekov and heaves him onto the bed. Then he kicks off his boots and starts to strip. Chekov follows his lead, and in a minute, clothes are strewn around the room, and Jim's propped up at the headboard, with Chekov sprawled on top of him, his back to Jim's front. Chekov spreads his legs, his dick erect. They look at me and grin.

I pull off my tee-shirt and pants, and step over to the bed. Chekov strokes his dick and makes a blissful noise, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Hold him," I order Jim. He grins and obediently grabs the kid's hands, pinning them to the mattress, and then wraps his legs around Chekov's, spreading him wider. Chekov lets his head fall back onto Jim's shoulder, his eyes holding mine, his teeth pressing into his lower lip. Oh, yeah, he knows just how good he looks. Still, I take a few seconds to gaze at them both -- incendiary doesn't even _begin_ to describe the view -- and end up clutching the base of my dick and squeezing it hard, because I'm _this close_ to coming.

"C'mon, Bones," Jim says, pushing Chekov's legs farther apart.

I grin and climb onto the bed, settle myself between their legs. Get myself comfortable -- I plan on being here quite a while.

I lick my lips, and Jim groans. "You're a sadist, you know," he says.

I snort, but don't bother to reply. Instead, I rest my forearms on Chekov's thighs, take his dick in my mouth, and as the kid groans, slowly, slowly sink down his length. A little something I learned to do because Jim loves it. In this case, Chekov's an easy mouthful. He's not as big as Jim, but he's just as wriggly and vocal, and I have to press hard on his thighs to keep him still. I pull off bit by bit, then go back down a little faster, and Jim grunts as the kid writhes on top of him.

Up and down, varying the speed and suction, but never fast or hard enough to let him come. My personal best was the time at the academy I gave Jim a blow job that lasted an hour, and afterward had to treat myself for jaw cramps. But the upside was that Jim actually stuck close for almost a month before he went off with another cadet -- the one with the enormous dick, so I didn't take it personally.

Not that I want Chekov to stick around. Although he's damned tasty...

I close my eyes, focus on the slick slide of his dick over my tongue, of his heat in my mouth. He's not Jim. There are a lot of differences: the noises he makes as I suck and lick; the way his dick fits in my mouth; and especially his taste -- but, God help me, I could get used to it.

What the hell am I saying?

My eyes fly open. Jim's holding the kid, kissing his temple, his cheek, crooning into his ear. Their fingers are laced together, one pair of hands pressing into the mattress, the other resting on Chekov's chest.

My heart stutters and I concentrate on increasing the suction. I want to bring off the kid quickly, before.... But I glanced up at Jim and Chekov together, at the way Jim's looking at him, and suspect I'm already too late.

Chekov's thighs tense under me, and he raises his head, opening his mouth. His hips lift and he yells, and then bitterness floods my mouth. I swallow and swallow again before I let his dick slide from between my lips, then press a kiss to his tender flesh.

Jim groans, untangles his fingers from the kid's, and flaps his hand. "C'mere," he says, his voice a quiet rasp.

I clamber up the bed and lean in for a kiss -- Jim and Chekov flavored -- and Jim sucks on my tongue until my dick's ready to fly solo. I pull away, evading his clutching fingers, but I can't help stroking his cheek. Once.

"Got to fuck the kid yet."

The explanation seems to satisfy him, because he grins and grabs Chekov behind his knees, hitching the kid's legs up and apart, baring him to my eager gaze.

Eyes closed, Chekov squirms on Jim's chest, settling himself, then reaches up and pinches his own nipples. He looks like some classical image painted on a vase -- long, pale limbs, androgynous beauty belied by his rapidly-filling dick, swollen lips, disheveled hair, wanton pose. No wonder Jim wants to eat him with a spoon.

Jim's moan echoes my own at the sight.

I grab the vial of slick and thoroughly wet my fingers. Even if the kid's been fucked before, he's bound to be tight, and I am _not_ sending him to the infirmary to repair torn muscles. I wrap one hand around Jim's fingers, still holding Chekov's legs wide, and slide one finger deep into Chekov.

He gasps and shivers. I hold still, my finger buried up to the base in such heat and pressure that I feel light-headed for a moment at the thought that my dick's going there. Then I move, slowly pull my finger until it's almost completely out. Chekov whimpers.

In and out a few more times, until I can feel him loosening around me. Then I change the movement to small circles, like stirring a pot, and he groans as I press him open with my finger. He's hard again, dripping on his belly, and he releases his nipples, now red and slightly swollen, and reaches for his dick.

I let go of Jim's hand and slap Chekov's away. "Don't touch yourself," I order.

He whines but obeys, grabbing his knees instead.

"Good boy," I say, and give his prostate a stroke.

"Nice incentive," murmurs Jim, as Chekov yells and practically levitates off him. "You going to actually fuck him, or just play around with his ass?" he continues.

"Shut up."

Jim laughs as I pull my finger out of Chekov and coat my dick with more slick.

"Look at me, kid." I press the tip of my dick firmly against his hole -- not enough to penetrate, not yet -- and wait for him to open his eyes. It takes a minute or two for him to focus, but I can be patient when I need to.

Finally, he blinks and his gaze meets mine.

"You want this?" I ask, pressing a little more, but not entering him.

He nods, and his eyes flutter shut.

"Hey, Pavel!" Jim shakes his legs, startles him. Of course he knows what I'm doing. "You've got to talk to him, Pavel. Otherwise Bones will leave you hanging."

Chekov looks at me now, squinting a little, and I can see he's tracking more clearly.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" I speak slowly.

His nods jiggle the bed. "Da. _Yes_."

Thank God. My thighs tremble from holding still, and it's an enormous relief to push my hips forward until the head of my dick breaches him.

Hot. Tight. God, so damned good. I'm past exhausted, and so turned on that I don't do much more than make sure I'm hitting his prostate before I'm coming, pumping into him, gasping at each pulse. Chekov shouts, his own dick bobbing as he climaxes again, coating his belly. Only at eighteen.

When I'm done, I close my eyes and slump forward, too weak to do more than carefully pull out of the kid. Somehow the two of them slide out from under me and get me turned on my side. Jim spoons up behind me, muttering filthy words in my ear, wet finger already sliding into my ass. Chekov faces me, pressing gentle kisses to my face, eyelids, lips, stroking my hair, my arm. I sling an arm over him and drift, high on endorphins, beyond tired, as Jim's dick replaces his finger, filling me more than just physically.

The kid's murmuring stuff, Russian mostly, but I understand "good" and "thank you" and "beautiful man." I snort at the last, my breath catching as Jim drives in hard and groans as he comes. Fire sizzles along my nerves, heat blossoms deep in my gut. I tighten around him, want to stay this way for a long while.

He pulls out too soon. I sigh, know what will happen now. Yeah, I'm beat, but would it kill him to stay for a bit? Jim rolls off the bed.

Guess so.

Chekov's still stroking my hair, his lips pressed to my forehead. I tug him closer, enjoying the company.

"C'mon, Pavel," Jim whispers. Cloth rustles. "Let him sleep."

I tighten my grip and mutter "he can stay," but the kid brushes a kiss over my mouth and slips out of bed.

Damn.

I sink into sleep as the door opens, then closes.

Hope the kid enjoyed his birthday present. I sure did.

# # #

His skin is buzzing, and he still wants more, so he drags Pavel back to his quarters for another go. He goes into the bathroom to clean up, and when he comes back out, Pavel is pacing back and forth.

"Won't he be angry?"

Jim's embarrassed to say that it takes a minute or so to figure out who Pavel is talking about. "Who, Bones? Nah, he's always like that -- cranky bastard gets off, and then practically passes out. It's better to let him sleep, so I never stay."

Pavel blinks, then asks, "Never?"

"Nope. He's never asked, and I've never offered." Jim shrugs, and strips off his shirts. "Do you want to do this, or talk about Bones all night?"

Pavel doesn't answer; instead he kicks off his boots, shucks his trousers and shirts, and follows Jim over to the bed. Jim pushes him down against the pillows before he toes off his own boots and drops his trousers to the floor. He chuckles when Pavel's eyes widen as he crawls up the bed and plants himself between his spread thighs.

"So -- what can I do for you, Pavel?" He leans in and licks a stripe up the underside of Pavel's cock. Pavel arches into the touch, and Jim hums slightly as he suckles on the head before pulling off to ask, "Do you want me to fuck you again? Or is there something else you want?"

"I… I want-" Whatever Pavel is going to say is cut off when Jim slides his lips down over the length of his cock. Jim swallows against his gag reflex, pulls off, and goes deep again. When Pavel's hips start to move, Jim backs off.

"Pavel? Is this what you want?"

Pavel swallows hard, then opens his eyes. "I want. That is. Can I…can I fuck you?"

Jim huffs a laugh against the smooth skin of Pavel's hip -- the kid has guts -- and crawls the rest of the way up the bed to nip at the long column of his neck.

"You can fuck me, but we're gonna do it my way." Jim isn't averse to getting fucked, but people usually want him to do them, so it doesn't happen that often. He leans over and rummages around in the nightstand for lube, and nearly comes out of his skin when Pavel bends himself in half and mouths at the head of Jim's cock.

He drops the lube on the pillow and pushes Pavel's head down next to it before he crawls the rest of the way up, and pins him down by pressing his knees against Pavel's shoulders. He opens up eagerly when Jim bumps his cock against Pavel's mouth, and Jim braces his hands against the wall and just enjoys the feel of Pavel's mouth sliding over him. It feels good, hot and wet and _Jesus_ who knew he could do that with his tongue?

He fumbles with the lube, struggling for a few seconds to open the cap, and then yes, the cap pops off and bounces off the wall to land somewhere on the bed, and Jim is pushing a pair of slick fingers into his own ass just as Pavel releases his cock with an obscene pop.

Pavel closes his mouth and Jim feels his shoulder flex as he tries to move his arm, so he shuffles back enough that his knees are pressing into the bed on either side of Pavel's chest. Pavel doesn't waste any time; Jim feels his fingers tracing over and around where's he's stretching himself open, and when Jim pulls out to add more lube, Pavel presses two fingers in alongside his. It's almost too much, and when Pavel presses his fingers against Jim's prostate and suckles at the head of his cock, Jim nearly comes.

He pulls Pavel's fingers free along with his own, and shimmies backwards until he feels Pavel's cock bumping against his ass. He slicks him with whatever's still left on his hand, and pushes down and back until he's resting against the taut muscles of Pavel's thighs. It feels good, the stretch and the burn and the fullness, and he wonders again why he doesn't do this more often.

And then Pavel is pulling his hips down and pushing, slipping in a tiny bit more, then pulling back as much as he can with Jim's weight on his hips, and then Jim is moving to, and it's all heat and sensation, the slip-slide of skin against skin, and the rush of coming.

#

Their next assignment is playing ferry service -- they're to stop at Seyann, pick up the Vulcan ambassadorial team that had been stationed on Delta IV, and deliver them to the new Vulcan home world. A milk run, but after the previous week's clusterfuck of an away party, Jim's ready for something easy, and he's pretty sure the rest of the crew agrees.

They don't have time for shore leave, but Jim asks Bones and Spock if they want to be in the away team anyway. Both decline -- Bones because 'he's a doctor, not an Explorer Scout' and Spock because he wishes to prepare quarters for the Ambassador and her staff. Jim shrugs, and fills the party with junior members of the bridge crew, including Chekov and Uhura.

When they beam down, they're greeted by a full delegation of Deltans. They're invited to dine with the Chancellor, and as the Vulcans have already accepted, Jim doesn't feel at all guilty for wanting to stay. They're escorted to a pair of aircars, where they're each paired with a member of the delegation. The trip to the Chancellor's mansion doubles as a tour of the capital city, and by the time they reach their destination, Jim can see Chekov is smitten with the young man he's been paired with, and Uhura is relaxed and chatting in a foreign language with two women who look like twins.

Seyann and the capital are gorgeous, as lovely as he's always heard they were, but they're nothing compared to the loveliness of the Deltans. He knows intellectually they're no more beautiful than any other humanoid species, that it's the pheromones that make them seem so perfect, but when he's tucked into a corner, wrapped around a friendly girl, high on the feel of her hands and breath against his bare skin, he doesn't care.

#

After they've left Ambassador T'Pal and her staff at New Vulcan, they turn for Earth. Starfleet is hosting a two week mandatory leadership conference, and afterwards, Jim is taking two weeks leave, which is one more than he technically needs for George and Aurelan's wedding, but the Admiralty is insisting, so two weeks it is.

There is a planetary anomaly about three hundred light years from Sol, and after several requests, Spock has finally talked Starfleet into letting them take a look at it on their way. Jim listens in on the science briefing with half an ear, noting who is excited, and who looks bored by it -- Chekov is nearly wetting himself over the math and physics, and Gaila is right there with him. Of course Spock is interested, but the only reason Jim knows that is because he knows how many times he's made the request to at least be able to leave a sensor buoy in the area.

They're going in to observe within the solar system but they'll be on the outer edges, to avoid any solar anomalies. The planet is large enough that it's triggering plasma tides on the star, and the plasma tides are intense enough to warp the planet's orbit. The planet and star were discovered in the early 21st century, and there have been numerous studies of the dangerous tango between them, but something has changed, and the planet's orbit is decaying more rapidly than anticipated, so of course, the scientists want to see it. Because the planet is so close to the star, and the gravitational forces and heat are too great, they can't take a shuttle or beam down, so it looks like this will be an instance of on-ship observation, which means lots of down time for Jim.

When Spock starts to wrap up the briefing, Jim tunes back in, and nods in the appropriate places, telling Spock to allocate resources as necessary. The smug bastard just nods, and says, "Of course, Captain," before he dismisses the assembled officers.

Jim is startled when he sees Bones on the bridge -- he usually doesn't come up until the end of shift -- but when he checks the chronometer, he sees that it _is_ nearly the end of Alpha shift, and he realizes he must have lost track of time in the briefing.

"So, Bones, dinner?" Jim leans in close, and says, "And maybe after we could go back to your quarters?"

Bones huffs at him, but gives in, and they plan to meet in the forward lounge in half an hour. When he goes back to Sickbay or where ever his rounds of the ship take him, Jim finishes the last of the day's busywork, signing off on reports and personnel rosters, and handing the whole mess off to his yeoman before he turns the conn over to Spock.

He's looking forward to spending some time with Bones -- they haven't really talked since he'd dragged Chekov into Bones' quarters, and he's missed it.

When he enters the lounge, he sees Bones has already arrived, and has retreated to the corner table he prefers. Jim waits his turn for food, glancing around the room to see who is hanging with who -- he's always curious to see how the rest of the crew are pairing up and who they hang out with during their downtime. He's pleased to see Sulu and Chekov at a table with Gaila and a couple of the younger lieutenants from Engineering. He looks back to where Scotty is in line, and he's glad to see him smiling in Gaila's direction rather than frowning -- either they patched things up, or their last blow up was a momentary blip.

When he hears Chekov's voice raised in laughter, his attention is drawn back to what's happening at their table. Chekov's hands are raised in what looks like surrender, and one of the lieutenants -- Jorgenson, he thinks the kid's name is -- is poking Pavel's stomach. He looks…happy, and really, that's all Jim could ask for after the year they've all had. Well, that and that people do their jobs.

"Sir?" He turns his attention to the line in front of him and is amused to see that there isn't one -- it's his turn. He steps up to the slot, orders his dinner, and goes to sit with Bones.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasure, Captain?" Jim's sure he wasn't this testy when he'd been on the bridge earlier.

"Bones -- you wound me. Can't I have dinner with my best friend without wanting something?"

Bones looks suspicious for a few more seconds before he relents, and grumbles under his breath about flighty captains, and Jim grins at him.

"So, how are you?"

"Oh, well, considering that I live on what amounts to a tincan in space, and I'm surrounded by hormonally-ruled idiots, I'm fine."

"Hormonally-ruled…?" This is a new one, cranky and surly even for Bones, but when Jim follows his gaze, he sees that Jorgenson has moved closer to Pavel, and his arm is now around the back Pavel's chair. Oh. Is that what's made him so cranky?

"You do know he's eighteen, right?"

Bones shoots him a dirty look.

"What you expected after one night in bed with us, he'd be pining away?"

"No…but I didn't think he'd turn into you, either."

Jim can't help it -- he laughs aloud. "Bones. It's not like he was a virgin before you fucked him."

Bones pokes at the food still on his plate and shrugs, but doesn't answer.

"Don't tell me you want more of our little Russian?"

"I…wouldn't say no. If he were to offer." The words come slowly, like they're being pulled out against his will, and the look on his face is one Jim has never seen -- it's almost as if he's ashamed of himself, of what he wants, and that's something Jim just can't let go.

"It's not wrong to want it, Bones. I mean, look at him. Why do you think I brought him to you? But he's eighteen, and probably not looking to be tied down." He looks over at Pavel and sees he's looking back. Jim winks at him, and is amused when Pavel blushes and drops his gaze to the table. Interesting.

He turns back to Bones, and sees that he's watching Pavel too. "You know…there's no reason we can't do it again."

Bones swallows, and nods absentmindedly, and Jim decides then and there to make sure a Chekov sandwich happens again, and soon. But for now….

"Come on, Bones, let's go back to yours and see if we can resolve some of this tension?"

Bones looks away from Chekov and grins. "Yeah, let's do that."

They're down the hall and into the turbolift in record time, and Jim jumps when he feels Bones' hand on his ass. He resolutely does not blush while he silently wishes the turbolift would go faster. When the door opens, they hurry across the hall and into Bones' quarters, where Bones pushes Jim against a wall, and kisses him forcefully, holding his head still with fingers tangled in the short length of his hair.

Jim opens up, lets him in with a groan, and pulls him closer. When Jim turns away from the kiss and drags in a deep breath, Bones pulls his head back and to the side before he presses a kiss to the corner of Jim's jaw, and one to the soft skin below his ear. When Bones scrapes his teeth over the flexed tendon leading to his collarbone, Jim lets out a moan that turns into a strangled yelp as Bones pinches the thin skin between his teeth and pulls. He worries the skin between his teeth for a few more seconds before he drops to his knees in front of Jim, pushing his trousers down far enough to pull his cock out he sucks it in, going deep right away, so deep that Jim can feel Bones' throat closing over the head of his cock. It's hot and wet and rough, and Jim is coming before he wants to, but Bones is pushing his trousers and briefs off and stepping out of his boots as he's standing to kiss Jim, and before he knows it, he's ready to go again.

Bones drags him back to the bed, and Jim follows, shimmying out of his trousers and kicking off his boots as Bones pulls him down, and demands with his mouth and hands and body that Jim fuck him. Jim feels out of control, infected with the same lust that has a hold on Bones, but he slows things down, stops long enough to slick his cock before he drives into him. He's tight, so tight, and the noises he's making are incredible, whimpers and near-shouts that cut off when Jim leans in to kiss him as he slows and repeatedly drags his cock over Bones' prostate. A few strokes more, and Bones is coming, and feeling that, knowing Bones came without Jim even touching him is enough to pull Jim over as well.

Jim wants to sleep for days, right here, half-sprawled across Bones, but he's already starting to crash, and Jim doesn't want to disturb him, so he crawls off the bed, and pulls his trousers and boots on before he covers Bones with the afghan from the chair.

When he leans in to kiss Bones on the forehead, Bones wraps his arms around Jim's shoulders and kisses him before he says, "You can stay, if you want, Jim."

Jim's not sure what to make of this -- Bones never _asks_ him to stay, just offers in that off-hand way, like he thinks he _should_, not because he really wants to. Jim doesn't want to impose, though, so he just shakes his head and kisses Bones again, before he goes back to his own quarters.

#

Jim and Hikaru have a standing date for a fencing lesson -- once a week they take over a corner of the largest work-out room, and Hikaru wipes the floor with his ass. He says Jim is improving, but Jim thinks he only says that because of the sex they'll be having later. Jim knows he's never going to be any good at fencing, but that was never the point of the lessons anyway.

Jim's never been good at friendships without sex; that's been changing this past year, but he and Hikaru started this almost as soon as the __Enterprise__ docked back at Earth for repairs after the Narada was destroyed, while they were still Kirk and Sulu to each other. It's probably not healthy, but it works, and they've become good friends. Jim's pretty sure they don't even need the sex anymore, but he enjoys it, so he still shows up every week for his lesson.

They strip off their gear just inside Hikaru's door, and he's still winded and overheated when he goes to his knees in front of Hikaru. He knows that's part of what makes the whole thing so hot -- the endorphins and the scent of honest sweat on their skin and the knowledge that he's about to get even more of a workout -- _this_ is the point of the fencing lessons.

Hikaru is flexible in ways Jim didn't know were possible, and he's a lot like Gaila -- pretty much anything goes, and with Hikaru, 'anything' pretty much translates to rough and fairly kinky. So when he drags Jim off his cock and over to the chair, Jim follows willingly. He's not sure how this is going to work, but he's willing to give it a try. Hikaru pushes at his mid-section and he sits, watching as Hikaru crosses to the night stand and retrieves a tube of lube before he comes back. He crawls into the chair with Jim, bracing his knees against the low, wide arms and his hands on the back until he's balanced over Jim's lap, pressing their cocks together between their bellies. He shifts his hips, sliding his cock alongside Jim's as he tips his head down and kisses Jim briefly.

Then he's moving and Jim hears a quiet snick as Hikaru opens the lube. Hikaru twists and grabs Jim's hand before squirting the lube across his fingers, and Jim marvels again at how bendy he is. He squirts lube into his own hand and circles their cocks -- it's cold, and Jim gasps before deciding two can play at that game -- he wraps his free arm around the small of Hikaru's back and presses the fingers of his other hand to Hikaru's ass without bothering to warm up the gel. He teases a bit, rubbing circles around the tight opening under his fingers before he pushes two in at once. Hikaru pushes against his hand and nearly overbalances the chair before Jim braces his feet against the floor and starts to fuck him with his fingers. Hikaru's hand tightens around their cocks and it's almost painful, but Jim can't keep his hips from moving, from pushing up, wanting more.

He pushes into Hikaru with another finger, stretches him wide and fucks him hard, and Hikaru's hand tightens even further, and he says, "More."

"More? Are you sure?" They've never talked about this, never set any boundaries because Jim never thought they needed to, and now he's not sure.

Hikaru opens his eyes, and looks down at Jim as he grinds against his hand, as he says, "More. Now."

Jim looks to the side, wondering where the slick went before he realizes Hikaru is still holding it. " 'M gonna need more lube if you want the rest of my hand in there, Hikaru." He pulls his fingers free as Hikaru twists and squirts what feels like the rest of the tube into the cup of Jim's fingers before he drops the tube next to the chair.

He presses his fingers against the cleft of Hikaru's ass, smearing the lube against his skin and dragging his fingers through the mess before he pushes in with four fingers. It's so tight, and he's still not sure he's going to be able to get more of his hand in, but even as he thinks it's not going to happen, he feels Hikaru relax and he quickly tucks his thumb into his palm as the widest part of his hand breaches Hikaru's ass.

Hikaru is braced against his chest, gripping his shoulders with both hands, shaking and moaning, and Jim waits for the shaking to subside before he carefully folds his fingers down over his thumb, and rolls his fist over Hikaru's prostate. The effect is immediate and intense -- Hikaru arches against the arm Jim still has against the small of his back, and just like that, Jim feels like he's going to come at any second. He twists his hand, rolling it over Hikaru's prostate again, and Hikaru coming, arching so hard he's nearly horizontal. Jim is pulled forward with the force of it, and he struggles for a moment to keep them balanced in the chair and to keep from hurting Hikaru where his hand is wrapped in the hot squeeze of his ass.

When Hikaru goes limp and boneless, Jim pulls him up to lay against his chest. He holds him close, and slowly uncurls his fingers before he gently pulls his hand free. Hikaru hisses a bit, but doesn't react otherwise, and Jim's not sure what to make of the whole situation. It was hot, and he won't deny that he enjoyed doing it, but he's still so painfully turned on and it looks like Hikaru is down for the count. He waits for a few minutes, just holding Hikaru and feeling him breathe, before he decides that the thing to do here is get Hikaru into bed, and then duck into the head to take care of his raging hard-on before he goes back to his quarters.

He pushes a bit at Hikaru's shoulders, and he stirs and sits up. "That was…amazing." He looks like he wants to say more, but whatever it is gets lost in a wide yawn that morphs into a full-body shudder. Hikaru wiggles a bit at the end, and it puts much needed pressure right against Jim's cock.

He moans a bit and pushes back, and before he knows it, Hikaru is sliding off the chair, running his hands over Jim's torso as he licks his way down through the come on Jim's stomach before he just opens up and takes Jim's cock as far as he can and wrapping his hand around the base. Jim thrusts into his mouth, before Hikaru releases his cock and uses both hands to pin Jim's hips to the chair. It's over in an embarrassingly short amount of time, but Jim doesn't care -- he just tips his head back against the back of the chair and rides it out.

#

It's a couple more days before he gets a chance to talk to Pavel -- despite all thoughts to the contrary, he _doesn't_ have a lot of downtime. There's paperwork and reports and briefings, and he finds himself spending a lot of time watching the spectacle of WASP-18B committing suicide on a planetary scale. He can only imagine how spectacularly the solar system is going to come apart when the planet does finally fall into the sun.

Pavel is still wound tight every day on the bridge, excited to be so close to something he's only read about. Spock has set it up so the raw data from the sensor buoy feeds into his console and Pavel's as well as to the Astrometrics and Physics labs, and any time he's not supposed to be doing something else, Pavel has his head down over the console watching the data as it scrolls by.

Several times he's exclaimed loudly in Russian before tapping a rapid sequence of numbers and letters into the computer, and sending it off somewhere. Almost every time, Jim has heard a corresponding chirp come from Spock's station.

Today there have been so many chirps back and forth, that Jim suggests to Chekov that he should just go back to Spock's station, and discuss whatever it is there. Chekov smiles brightly and secures his station before he bounces up the stairs and approaches Spock, and Jim and Sulu spend the rest of the shift trading eye-rolls and grins every time the discussion behind them gets heated.

When Pavel returns to his station, he once again bends over the screen of data, and absently rubs at his neck. Jim's eyes are drawn to the motion, and he can almost hear Bones complaining about how hard it is to be a doctor when the crew has no sense of self-preservation. He's heard the rant about strained muscles before; can almost recite it verbatim, and he's pretty sure Pavel will be hearing it first hand by the time they leave the system.

He watches Pavel a bit longer, and decides to make the time to talk to Pavel about the three of them getting together again. He'd made plans to see Bones tonight anyway, so if Pavel is willing and free for the night, he figures he can just surprise Bones when he shows up with Pavel.

When the shift ends, Jim lingers until Pavel has handed over the Navigation station to Riley. They enter the turbolift together, and as luck would have it, they're alone.

"So…did you and Spock have a productive debate earlier?"

Pavel nods and says, "It is all very interesting -- we studied the WASPs in astronomy, but I never thought I would get to see them in person. It is very puzzling though -- we are still not able to tell why they have changed course." Pavel looked up then, and he must see how Jim's eyes are unfocused even though he's nodding along, because he changes direction. "I am boring you. This is probably not what you wished to speak to me about?"

Jim grins; he knows when he's been caught. "Well, not that the astronomy talk isn't fascinating and all, but I was wondering what you're doing tonight?"

"What am I doing?" Pavel thinks about it for a second, then admits, "I was going to eat something, and then try to talk my way into one of the labs so I can fiddle with some of the telemetry we uploaded today."

Jim has to laugh at that -- at least the kid is honest.

"Why? Did you want to…" Pavel lets his sentence trail off suggestively, and Jim knows he's up for it.

"Well, I was actually thinking of making another surprise visit to Bones. You in?"

Pavel doesn't even have the grace to blush when he says yes, and Jim tells him to come by Bones' quarters in half an hour.

#

Jim swings by the mess and orders food, fruit and bottled water for three; he figures even if the others have already eaten, they're going to be hungry at some point, and he'd rather not have to leave until they're all fucked out. As he leaves the mess, he calls Bones, sure that he's still in the infirmary. To his surprise, Lieutenant Chapel answers and tells him Bones had left a few minutes before, so Jim changes course, and goes to Bones' quarters instead.

He gets there as Pavel is rounding the corner, and as he walks in, Jim pulls Pavel along, saying "Surprise!" by way of announcing himself.

# # #

I've just poured myself a drink and put my feet up for the first time all day when Jim barges in, complete with the kid.

He even has the balls to say "surprise" as he dumps a container of food on the table and sits down beside me. I bite back my initial complaint as I get a whiff of dinner. Whatever it is smells delicious.

My stomach gurgles and Jim laughs. The kid sits on my other side, making himself at home.

"Forgot to eat lunch again?" Jim opens the container to reveal a variety of finger food. Little bits of chicken and meat wrapped in pastry and crispy fried, along with tempura vegetables and things that look like cheese sticks. He even remembered to bring plates and napkins.

"No time." I accept a filled plate. "Some of us were in surgery all day."

The food tastes as good as it smells. Jim hands Chekov a heaped plate, and then serves himself. We're quiet as we eat. One thing you learn onboard ship: eat when you can, because even when things are calm, you never know when your next meal will be.

Doesn't take long to demolish the food. For all he's as skinny as a rail, the kid can pack away an amazing amount, and Jim's no slouch in the dining department.

I finish my meal and my drink at the same time. Chekov takes my plate and glass as the expected wave of exhaustion hits.

"If you have anything more than feeding me planned, you're going to be disappointed." I let my head fall back and close my eyes. "I'm wiped."

"Is that a dare?" Jim says in my left ear. "Because you know I can't resist a dare."

I can hear the smile in his voice. The right side of the sofa dips -- must be the kid.

Jim lays a hand on my thigh, and the kid mirrors him. I can't stifle my groan, or stop my dick from taking an interest. Jim laughs, the bastard, and the kid chuckles.

"Besides," Jim says, "you won't have to lift a finger. We'll do all the work."

"You feed me and now I have to put out?" I open my eyes and glare at him. "Forget it, Jim. I'm too tired to deal with this bullshit."

"Jesus, you're cranky." He shakes his head. "I mean what I say. _We're_ doing all the work tonight, Bones."

Before I can reply, Jim leans forward and kisses me. I'm tempted to resist, but hell, why not enjoy myself? When I relax and return his kiss, he moves his hand from my thigh up to cup my dick, and his other hand curls around the back of my neck, massaging gently.

I groan. Okay, I admit it: I'm addicted to Jim.

When he pulls away I barely have time to breathe before the kid leans over and presses his lips to mine. The kid's got more confidence now, and he takes charge. God, he must've been practicing, because his technique's improved, and isn't _that_ a hot image. My lips feel tender -- used -- when he gives a final nip and sits back, looking smug.

Then it's Jim's turn again. They tag-team me until I'm as boneless as a pat of butter on a hot day -- well, except for my dick. It's as hard as a lawman's glance and craves attention.

"You still with us, Bones?" Jim asks, stroking my dick through my trousers.

"You going to do something with that hand?" I reply, lifting my hips, groaning at the pressure against my dick. "Or just keep jabbering?"

"I wasn't thinking about using my hand." Jim exchanges a glance with Chekov, lifts an eyebrow, and unfastens my trousers. "I think we need to bring the party to the good doctor, Pavel. You agree?" He drags my trousers down past my knees, gives my dick a couple of encouraging squeezes.

"Absolutely." The kid stands and pulls off his shirt, then shucks the rest of his clothes.

My breath catches at the sight, and heat builds in my gut. I haven't forgotten what Chekov looks like naked, but the reality is a damned sight better than my memory, and my dick practically levitates.

He walks over to my bedside table. My gaze follows his ass, firm and smooth, and I want more than anything to bury my dick between those round cheeks. Retrieving the vial, he returns and hands it to Jim.

"Get me ready," he says as he bends over, spreading his legs and glancing back over his shoulder with a grin.

Jim and I groan in unison. Jesus, the kid's going to kill me.

Setting aside the slick, Jim grabs Chekov's ass and spreads him wide. Before the kid can do anything more than grunt, Jim leans forward and licks his hole. _That_ gets a reaction. Good thing Jim was holding on tight, or the kid would've ended up on the bulkhead.

I chuckle and palm my dick. I've been on the receiving end of Jim's rimming, so I know what the kid's going through. Jim licks for a while, then does this thing with his tongue that when he did it to me was so good I felt like the top of my head would explode. Chekov arches his back and shouts something. His knees are shaking.

Jim backs off and gives me a wicked smile when the kid objects. He pats Chekov's ass. "Not yet, Pavel. I want to see you come while you're riding Bones."

And now _I'm_ moaning, because having the kid ride me? My idea of heaven. Jim knows me too damned well.

Slicking up a finger, Jim pushes it deep inside Chekov's ass. He gives it a couple of twists, but doesn't stretch him before he pulls out.

"Want him nice and tight for you." He winks.

Then I have a lap full of leggy, skinny, amazingly hot young Russian. The kid straddles me and holds my shoulders, diving in for a kiss. The head of my dick drags along his ass and the shaft ends up pressed against his crease while he concentrates on kissing the stuffing out of me. He licks inside my mouth and nibbles on my lips and presses me into the sofa.

I could stay like this forever.

But the kid's almost as impatient as Jim, and he lifts his ass. A hand -- must be Jim's -- wraps around my dick and holds it steady as Chekov slowly lowers himself.

"Fuck," I breathe into his mouth as I breach him. Heat and pressure surround my dick, and I jerk my head back, gasping.

The kid narrows his eyes and licks his lips as he sinks onto my dick. He's tight and his face is tense, but he doesn't seem to be in pain. I let him set the speed.

Beside me, Jim's breathing hard. When Chekov comes to rest on my thighs, his eyes closed, his chest heaving, Jim goes on his knees behind him. Something slick -- a finger? -- traces the kid's hole, stretched around me. Feels incredible. Chekov yelps, while I shiver at the sensation.

Jim's not the type just to sit back and watch. He's going to make the most of his front-row seat.

Chekov shifts his hips, settling himself more firmly on me. Fire blazes down my legs, sends flashes to my retinas, stiffens my spine. I run my hands up his thighs, grip his hip bones, anchoring him.

Eyelids fluttering, the kid suddenly grins and leans forward, brushing his lips over mine. He tenses his thighs and slides up my dick, so damned slowly.

Jim's busy at the kid's back, his fingers trailing along the exposed part of my dick, around Chekov's hole. It's almost too much when he fondles my balls, rubs my perineum, fingertips gliding over my hole. My skin burns, ultra-sensitive, as if I have a fever. He kisses Chekov's neck, sucks on his earlobe, licks a stripe along his shoulder, then meets my gaze with those damned baby blues twinkling.

"How you doing, Bones?"

I can't talk -- all my senses are overloaded, my nerves sparking and fizzling. Chekov makes a blissed out noise as he sinks back down, then whines as I thrust up, hit his prostate. His dick leaves a damp trail across my belly.

I'm not going to last.

A couple of heartbeats later his fingers tighten on my shoulders and he comes, all over my belly and chest. I pull him close and bury my face against his neck, give another couple of thrusts and gasp as I climax, filling him.

As soon as I finish spilling, my head falls back, my eyes close. The kid's panting on my lap, hot and sticky, and he kisses my eyelids, my cheekbones, the tip of my nose. I'm buzzing with endorphins, but so exhausted I can barely lift a finger.

"Poor old man. You've worn him out, Pavel."

"Hey!" I crack open my eyes, glare at him. "Revenge is sweet, Casanova. Just wait'll you need a hypospray."

Jim laughs. "Let's get him to bed, Pavel." And then he leans forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

What the...? He's never done that. Jim's kisses are all about seduction and conquest, burning and pillaging and taking no quarter. This one was... well, sweet.

Is he coming down with something?

Chekov scrambles off my lap, and I shiver at the sudden chill. He and Jim manage to hoist me off the sofa and Jim strips me as efficiently as any nurse before he helps me stagger to my bed.

I sigh when I hit the mattress. God, it feels good to be horizontal.

"Night, Bones," Jim says, lowering the lights.

Night? He's leaving?

"God damn it, Jim!" I prop myself up on my elbow, blink at him. "I'm tired, not dead. You haven't come yet -- good God, man, you're still dressed! Get your asses into bed, both of you."

Laughing, Chekov crawls into bed with me, while Jim tugs off his shirt.

"I'm not up for much, but I'm still capable of being fucked." I look around for the slick as the kid plasters himself to my side and strokes my chest.

Jim finishes stripping -- I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing him naked -- and grins. "Sounds good to me."

"Captain -- no, I forgot. _Jim_." Chekov pats my belly once and gets to his knees. "I have an idea." He gives me a thoughtful look, then angles himself on the bed and drops to elbows and knees, wiggling his ass. His hole's still wet. "Fuck me, and Doctor McCoy can watch."

Holy fuck. My dick twitches at the thought, and my throat's so dry I have to clear it before I can speak.

"Jesus, kid. I've had your tongue in my mouth and my dick in your ass. You can call me Leonard."

His smile practically blinds me. "Da, Leonard."

"Excellent use of initiative, Ensign Chekov. Remind me to give you a commendation," Jim mutters. He leans down and kisses me -- one of his special, toe-curling, raise-the-dead kisses -- and then pulls back enough to meet my gaze. "Okay, Bones?"

Oh, for fuck's sake. I roll my eyes. "Get your ass over there and fuck the kid, Jim. And I want to see _everything_."

Chekov must be pretty tender, but he doesn't seem to mind. I should check him before he leaves. And then my thoughts are derailed by what's happening in my bed, right in front of me.

If there was a Starfleet medal in Competitive Fucking, they would win it. Jim pulls out all the stops, using every trick in his very extensive book, plus a few I've never seen. Can't wait to have him use them on me.

My dick perks up, and I stroke it as I watch what's probably the hottest show in the galaxy. Jim goes deep, his ass -- his very _fine_ ass -- clenching. Then he slides his hands around the kid's chest and sits back, pulling Chekov with him. Somehow he manages to angle them both in my direction so Chekov's draped over him, completely on display.

The kid reaches for his dick, but Jim traps his arms.

"Can you suck him, Bones?" Jim asks with a hopeful look.

"Please, Leonard." The kid's face mirrors the hope.

The sight of Chekov, hard and panting, sitting on Jim's lap, Jim's dick up his ass, would raise the dead. Good thing I'm not dead yet.

"Hell, yes!"

I get settled between their legs, my hands on the kid's thighs, and start sucking. Chekov yells almost immediately, body tensing, as he comes in my mouth, and I don't know whether to be disappointed or flattered. I swallow, lick him a little. He hisses -- probably painfully sensitive -- so I back off.

"Bones!"

Jim's sweating, eyes glassy. His hips work, but he can't get much leverage in that position, and the kid's as limp as a Macrinian slug. I slowly pull the kid forward until he sprawls on the bed. Jim follows, somehow managing to keep his dick firmly buried even as they move. He props himself up on his arms, thrusts once, twice, and then groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

I collapse on my side, but my dick demands some attention. A couple of strokes are all I need before I come again. Jesus. That floor show would've made a Vulcan hot and bothered.

I close my eyes and settle into the tangle of sweaty arms and legs. At some point I turn over and the bed's cold. Jim and Chekov must've slipped away as I slept.

It doesn't matter, I tell myself, but I know I'm lying.

# # #

Jim's still not sure about this -- he likes Gaila, hell, he loves her as much as he does any of his friends, but this has the potential for disaster. He gets it, really he does, he understands the way Scotty feels, and he can even admit that he might feel the same way if he and Bones had the kind of thing that Gaila and Scotty have, but still….

"How is this supposed to help, again, Gaila?"

"Scotty thinks if he could be there, and see that I'm not …I don't know, _in love_ with anyone else, that he'll be okay with it." She sees him frowning, and says, "I didn't say it made sense, Jim. But I'm willing to try it, to make him happy."

"Have you ever thought about maybe just not sleeping with other people?"

"It'll be fine, Jim. He likes you, you like him, and you're not looking to settle down, so it's not like he'll see you as competition."

"Uh, who says I don't want to settle down? Maybe I just haven't found the right person yet." Sometimes he thinks maybe he has found the right person, and he wonders if Bones wants that, wants it to be just them. He doesn't think so, though, because it's not as if Bones has ever said anything. "Maybe I want shared quarters and one point three kids and a colony of tribbles."

The look Gaila gives him in response to that could peel paint, so he raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, fine, I'll do it. What time?"

Gaila bounces a bit on her toes and leans up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "How about tomorrow at 2100? Come to my quarters first, and we can go over to Scotty's together." She finishes her drink as Bones takes his seat at the bar, and then bounces off with a grin, and a 'see you tomorrow, Jim' thrown over her shoulder.

"What was that about? Or do I not want to know?"

"You probably don't want to know, but I'm going to tell you anyway." Bones signals the bartender for a drink, and makes a hurry-up motion with his hand. "Gaila wants me to sleep with her and Scotty."

"Why am I not surprised that you're in the middle of this thing the two of them have going on?"

"Hey -- it wasn't my idea!" Jim takes a drink of his beer before he says, "It was actually his."

"_Scotty_ wants to fuck around with you there? Am I the only person who thinks this is a really bad idea?"

Jim's not sure he's ever seen this level of disbelief on Bones' face before, and he's not sure if he should be insulted or impressed.

"Well…I don't think he said me specifically, but Gaila figured he'd veto anyone from Engineering, and why not? It's not like it's going to be a regular thing."

"Oh, like your fencing lessons with Sulu or this thing with Chekov? Like those aren't regular things?" Bones takes a sip of his bourbon, and leans an elbow on the bar.

"Two times doesn't make it a regular thing."

Bones snorts into his drink, but doesn't say anything.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just thinking of all the other things you claim aren't regular things…."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Bones rubs his hand across his face, and downs the last of his drink before he answers. "It's nothing. I'm just…I'm tired and cranky and you should just ignore me. I'm gonna go back to my quarters and sleep it off. I'll see you at dinner tomorrow, yeah?" He stands and leaves before Jim has a chance to say anything else, and all Jim can think is that something must be going around, because _everyone_ is acting weird today.

#

Gaila is dressed in civvies -- a rust-colored barely-there dress, heavy copper jewelry that's bright against her skin, and no shoes. She looks good enough to eat, and really, Jim kind of wants to fuck her right now, but as soon as she'd opened the door, they'd left for Scotty's quarters. They're in the turbolift, and Gaila is humming and smiling that smile. It drives him crazy, because he _knows_ she knows what that smile does to people -- he's watched her reel people in with it, been one of the people reeled in. He's not sure if she thinks he needs reeling in, or if she's wearing it in anticipation of seeing Scotty, but either way, he has a bad feeling about this.

Jim thinks maybe Bones was right, but they're out of the 'lift and at Scotty's door, and it's too late to back out now.

Scotty answers the door, and he looks as unsure about all this as Jim is. Gaila leans in to kiss him, then walks in, pulling Jim along in her wake. Scotty nods at him as they pass, and at that moment, Jim knows Bones was right. This is a bad idea.

Gaila crooks her finger at Scotty, and he crosses the room, pulled forward like a puppet on a string. When he stops, he's pressed against them, hip to hip, and their bodies form an uneven triangle. Gaila slips her hand over Scotty's chest, up over his shoulder into his hair, and pulls him down into a kiss.

Scotty goes willingly, and Jim has to admit, watching them together is hot. He's never seen Gaila be quite this forward -- usually she lets Jim set the pace, lets her partners control the action, but it's clear the dynamic between her and Scotty is different. When she breaks the kiss, Scotty blindly follows, chasing her mouth with his, and she chuckles as she turns his head with a small nudge of her fingers against his chin.

Scotty's eyes fly open and the look of sheer panic in them when he sees how close his mouth is to Jim's is enough for Jim.

"Gaila, I don't think-"

"Lass, I canna-"

They speak at the same time, and Scotty steps away from them at the same time as Jim backs away from Gaila, and yeah -- this isn't going to happen.

Gaila turns to Scotty and touches his shoulder, and when he _flinches_, her eyes go wide, and her mouth turns down into a frown. She looks like she's going to cry, and Jim has never seen that particular expression on her face. "Scotty? What's wrong?"

"I can't, Gaila. I know…I wanted to please you, wanted to understand, and I can't." He sounds so defeated, and Jim knows he should leave, should let them work this out without an audience.

Jim tips his head toward the door, and says, "I'm going to go, let you... " He trails off as Gaila nods, and high tails it out of the room before he hears anything else he shouldn't.

# # #

I lean back in my chair and stare out the port at the infinite blackness of space for a minute before I shiver and turn away. We've been in this tin can for over a year now, and I'm still not happy about the fact that there's only a thin skin of metal between me and violent decompression. If Jim weren't here.... Well, a lot of things would be different.

I scan the crowd from the dim corner where I'm nursing my single bourbon. The forward lounge is busy this time of night, but there's no one I want to talk with. I saw the kid earlier, leaving with some of his friends. They were laughing, and a tall, lanky guy threw his arm around the kid's shoulders and pulled him close, kissing his temple. I was half-way to my feet, fists clenched, before I caught myself.

Jesus. Jim would have a thing or two to say about that.

Although he doesn't have any room to talk. He spent most of dinner trying to justify his decision, until I told him I'd give him something that would make his dick fall off if he didn't shut his trap about the whole business. I know where he is and what he's doing with Gaila and Scotty -- at least the broad outlines -- and I still think it's a mistake. But it's Jim's mistake to make, not mine.

A beer slides across the table and I look up into Jim's eyes.

"This seat taken?" he asks, quirking a smile.

"Be my guest." He sits next to me, and I take a drink before continuing. "Thought you had an appointment."

Some emotion crosses his face. Regret? Shame? He bows his head and chuckles. Sounds like a rasp over rusted metal.

"If I told you that you were right, how long would you hold it over me?"

When he raises his head, my breath catches in my chest. Good God, what happened?

I shrug, trying to stay cool, and take another sip. "How long are you planning on living?"

His laugh is more genuine. "Thought so."

I wait a minute, then two, as he drinks his beer. "Are you going to tell me what happened, or am I going to have to resort to underhanded medical shenanigans to find out the truth?"

"Nothing happened."

He leans back, stretches out his legs in a parody of unconcern. My bullshit meter is reading in the red.

"Oh, yeah? What's that mean, exactly?"

With a shrug, he shoots me a hurt look. "It means nothing happened. I got there, and things... just didn't work out."

"Scotty got cold feet." It's not a question.

"And then some." Jim huffs out a chuckle. "Still, you've got to give Gaila credit for trying."

"Actually, I was going to say that Scotty deserves more credit."

"Scotty? C'mon, the guy practically crawled out of his skin at the thought of kissing me." He looks vaguely offended.

I stifle a laugh. How many people have actually turned down Jim Kirk? Probably could count them on the fingers of one hand, with a few fingers left over.

"Okay, so guys aren't his thing. At least he was willing to give it a try for Gaila's sake."

He still looks dubious, but doesn't respond. Just lifts a shoulder and downs half his beer, staring out at the boisterous crowd.

There's some kind of informal betting pool going on. I'm not certain what the wager is -- something to do with the outcome of a chess game and limerick smackdown, I think -- but the level of hilarity and the number of raised glasses makes me sigh. Better contact Medical and warn them to break out the analgesics and re-hydrates. They're going to need them before the night's over.

Lifting my glass, I let the last of my bourbon slip down my throat and then glance at Jim. He's staring into his beer. I know that look. Jim's usually not the sort to mope, but bruise his ego, especially regarding his sexual prowess, and he goes all broody.

Good thing I know how to snap him out of it.

I stand, wait a minute or two until my movement registers and he looks up. One eyebrow arches in an unspoken question.

With a nod toward the door, I ask, "You coming?"

That sends both eyebrows high. "Is that an invitation or a promise?" The corners of his mouth quiver.

"Both." I turn and walk away.

He catches up to me just outside the lounge, his shoulder bumping mine, but he's silent. Not like Jim at all. I glance at him. He looks pensive, and Jesus, that's unsettling. Jim doesn't _do_ pensive. Maybe he caught something that's going around. Maybe that thing with Scotty and Gaila hit him harder than he admitted. Now I'm curious. What's going on in that twisted brain of his?

We reach my quarters and step inside. I'm prepared for Jim to push me against the bulkhead and kiss me within an inch of my life -- that's what Jim does -- but not this time.

He turns, his gaze fixed on me.

My breath catches, and all I can see is the clear blue of his eyes, as blue as a Savannah sky in spring. He cups his hand around my cheek, strokes it once.

I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow, hard. Hope he doesn't notice the way my knees shake.

His kiss is just as gentle as his fingers. Still hot, but a banked fire, glowing coals and clear flames. It warms me slowly, completely.

We're both panting when he pulls away. My forehead drops to his shoulder for a minute while I catch my breath. He doesn't move, doesn't push me down to my knees, doesn't tear at my clothes. Just strokes the nape of my neck and holds me close.

I really should scan him.

When I raise my head, he brushes a kiss on my temple before turning us both toward the bed.

Now I'm really worried.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?" He pulls my shirt up, bends down to kiss my chest.

"What the hell are you doing?"

He straightens and stares at me blankly, then rolls his eyes. "Seducing you, you moron."

That sounds more like Jim. I'm relieved. Wait, what did he say?

"Seducing _me_? But you don't need to--"

"Shut up, Bones," he says, and kisses me again.

So I shut up -- not that I can talk with his tongue in my mouth, but I know a good thing when I see it -- and when the kiss ends let him strip me bare and push me onto the bed.

He mutters something as I lay sprawled on the mattress, but I don't catch it. I'm too busy stroking my dick and watching him peel out of his clothes.

When he joins me on the bed, I reach for the slick, but he grabs my wrist and shakes his head.

"Not yet."

Yeah. Right. Seduction. I forgot.

We kiss for a long time. By the time we're finished, my lips tingle, damned sensitive to every lick and nip and suck. He plays with my nipples until I push him away, afraid I'll come before he slips into me. When he turns his attention to my dick, his grip tight around the base, his mouth and tongue sliding over the top, I groan and throw my arm over my eyes, feel the pressure building inside.

Dear God, he's trying to kill me.

"Jim, _please_," I choke out, reach for him. "Hurry."

He releases me and scrambles to slick himself up, wincing as he touches his dick. He must be in as bad a shape as I am.

I start to turn over, but he grabs my arm.

"No."

He shoves a pillow under my ass and I spread my legs. He kneels between them, then bends over me, supporting himself on one arm, guiding his dick with the other. A nudge, a brief burn, and he slides inside.

I gasp, close my eyes. It's almost too much -- seeing his face, feeling him deep inside me, surrounded by Jim.

"Bones," he murmurs. His hips are still, but he kisses my cheeks, my eyelids, my temples before returning to my mouth. I'm distracted enough by his kiss that I only notice he's moving when he breaks away with a grunt.

I can't really do much in this position, just try not to slide across the mattress as he pounds into me. With a groan, he sits back on his heels and grabs my legs, guides them over his shoulders, thrusts again.

Jesus! Fireworks go off on every nerve, heat blazes across my skin. He barks out a laugh that turns into a moan as I tense around him and come, shooting across my belly and chest. Another thrust, one more, and he stills, his eyes squeezed shut as he climaxes.

Our breaths are harsh, the sound filling the room for a minute before he pulls out. I'll never tell him, but I relish the burn, the tender place where we were briefly joined. He collapses next to me, lips curled in a smile, eyelids heavy.

I look away, my chest tight. Remind myself to enjoy what I have and not to go chasing after will o' the wisps.

He throws his arm over my waist, pulls me close.

I tense, wait for him to get up and leave. His breaths even out, his arm is heavy. I close my eyes, feel the heat of him against me.

He starts to snore.

He's still here. In my bed.

I don't understand.

But I'd be a fool to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I close my eyes, try to memorize what it feels like to have him next to me, boneless in sleep, gentle breaths against my shoulder. Drift off eventually.

#

The computer doesn't wake me. No gentle voice telling me the time. No lights gradually brightening.

No, this morning I'm woken by a hand wrapped around my dick, a mouth on my nape, and fingers slipping into my tender ass.

What the fuck? I yelp.

A chuckle. "Good morning, sleepyhead." Jim's voice in my ear.

Jim. Who's still here. In my bed.

Oh.

_Oh._

I shiver when he replaces his fingers with the head of his dick, then pushes inside. He keeps stroking my dick, keeps kissing and nipping my neck and shoulder. I can't do anything but claw at the sheets as his hands and dick and mouth take me apart joint by joint until I'm nothing but nerves scraped raw by his touch.

"Go on, Bones," he whispers, his voice ragged. "Come for me."

I do.

He follows with a groan.

Then I get a call from Medical, and we have no time to do anything other than take a lightning-fast shower and dress before the day's responsibilities descend.

He grins and waves as he dashes out the door. "See you later."

I still don't know what happened last night, or this morning. I have more questions than answers, but two minutes after I reach Sickbay I'm elbows-deep in a crewman who lost a fight with an arc-welder, and don't have time to think of anything except saving his damned-fool life.

# # #

Jim's not sure what's going on. He never stays, never has to deal with the morning after, and this thing with Bones is really freaking him out -- yeah, he was the one that started it this morning, but he's not sure why he stayed in the first place.

He's spent most of the day thinking about what happened -- okay, freaking out about what happened, if he's being honest -- and he's no closer to figuring it out when his shift ends. He and Bones don't have definite plans, but he knows where he can find him if he's not still holed up in the infirmary. He heads to the forward lounge, hoping that seeing Bones might help to settle his nerves a bit, and that maybe they can talk about what happened. They're rendezvousing with the _Copernicus_ at 0900 tomorrow so he can go back to Earth, but he can't go on leave with this unresolved..

Jim orders a beer and retreats to their usual table to wait for Bones; he's lost in thought, and startles a bit when someone thumps a plate onto the table in front of him. It's Bones. He looks wrecked, like he's been working for days instead of the several hours that made up his shift.

"Tough day?"

"You have no idea. The reason for my emergency call this morning coded twice before we managed to patch up the damage he did himself with an arc welder, and some idiot in life sciences breached the containment field on those spores we collected on Gamma Hydra IV, and now everyone down there who worked the Alpha shift has hives. Had to inoculate the whole bunch against some kind of respiratory crap."

Jim swears Bones looks gleeful over this last bit; he still hasn't forgotten how many hypos he got jabbed with when Bones infected him with the mud-flea thing. "Ouch."

"Yeah, ouch. I just stopped by for a quick bite to eat, then I'm gonna go crash."

"Want come company?" Jim figures they should probably talk somewhere private, but Bones just shakes his head.

"I'm beat -- I know you're leaving tomorrow, but I'd probably just fall asleep on you anyway. Want to meet for breakfast instead?"

"Yeah, we can do that." He watches for a few minutes as Bones pushes the food around his plate before he speaks again. "Are we…okay?"

Bones looks startled. "What are you talking about -- 'course we're okay."

Jim knows he should say something, but he still hasn't figured things out, and hell, if things between them have kept to this point, they'll keep a little longer, so he shrugs and laughs. "Nothing, it's nothing. I'm probably just tired, too."

"It's probably a good thing you're going on leave then."

Jim stands and claps Bones on the shoulder. "Yep, a good thing. Think I'm going to try and finish up a bit of paperwork before I leave. I'll see you in the morning? Say 0730?" He waits until Bones nods before he smacks his shoulder again and leaves.

#

He hadn't been lying when he said he had paperwork to do; in fact he's still signing off on reports as he waits for Bones to show for breakfast. Either he wasn't paying attention when they told the command track cadets about how much busy work was involved in captaining a starship, or they just hadn't ever said anything about it. Jim's still leaning toward the latter -- he figures there'd be a lot less people on the command track if they knew about all the reports, inventories, mission briefings and departmental reports a command officer had to read and sign-off on a daily basis. He signs the last one just as Bones arrives.

"Morning. Sleep well?" Jim can already tell he did -- there's not exactly a smile on his face, but Bones definitely looks less wiped out than he did the day before.

"I did. What about you?" He gestures at the stack of padds next to Jim's tray with his fork before he uses it to dig into the scrambled eggs on his plate.

"I got enough. It's not like I'm not going to be getting sleep in the next few weeks."

Bones just snorts at him, and keeps shoveling in eggs and toast. He's reaching for his coffee cup when the comm system activates, and Lieutenant Chapel pages Bones to Sickbay. He rolls his eyes, downs the coffee, and pushes back from the table. He pauses for a moment, then squeezes Jim's shoulder.

"We'll talk when you get back, yeah?"

It's not ideal, but Jim supposes they'll have to make it work, so he smiles up at Bones and says, "Yeah, when I get back. In the meantime, don't do anything I wouldn't do." He waggles his eyebrows a bit, and laughs when Bones just grunts and waves as he walks away.

He turns back to his breakfast, and is just mopping up the last of his maple syrup with a scrap of pancake when Pavel steps up and asks if he can take Bones' recently vacated seat. Jim nods, and Pavel sets down his tray, launching into a long and convoluted explanation of why he's up so early.

Jim just sits back in his chair, sipping his coffee, and waiting for Pavel to take a breath, or a bite of his breakfast. It happens sooner than he expects, and he just blurts out what's been floating on the surface of his mind. Maybe it's a bad idea to encourage this, considering how Chekov snuggles in when he and Bones have finished fucking him, but he's worried Bones will just spend the time he's gone either working or drinking until he passes out.

"Hey, Pavel, can you check in on Bones while I'm gone? Make sure he's not staying holed up in his quarters?"

Pavel looks surprised and pleased by turns, and he grins widely as he nods and promises to make sure Leonard eats and sleeps and takes a break from the Sickbay.

"He's not going to like it. He tends to be pretty stubborn about this kind of stuff."

"I am pretty stubborn, too. He will listen to me."

Jim shakes his head at that -- he has no doubt Bones will listen, if only because he likes Pavel's tight little ass as much as Jim does. And Jim's pretty sure Pavel will talk enough for both of them, if the new tangent of his chatter is any indication. Jim just smiles and nods for the rest of the conversation, and when they part ways, he goes back to his quarters to pack a bag for leave.

They meet up with the _Copernicus_ as planned, and before he's ready, Jim's on the way back to Earth and San Francisco.

It's going to be a long four weeks.

# # #

 

I get back to my quarters late and head straight for the bottle I have stashed away for emergencies. I didn't want to stare at my empty bed all evening, knowing it'll be a month before Jim's back in it with me, so I found work to do in Sickbay. Now it's just me and my bourbon; I intend to lower the amount in the bottle by more than a few fingers before I fall into my lonely bed.

The lights are dim and I sprawl in a chair, a generous amount of bourbon in my glass. Each sip lessens the tension in my muscles, relaxes me a little more. Usually it helps my mood, too -- keeps me on an even keel -- but not tonight; the black dog that nips at my heels whenever Jim's not around stands in the corner of my mind, waiting. Damn. The only cure for the darkness is either to stop after one glass, or keep going until I pass out. Right now, I'm not sure which option sounds better.

I'm almost finished my first drink when the door chimes. Haven't yet decided whether to have another glass, but I curse anyway. Who the hell's bothering me at this time of night? Can't be Jim. He's long gone.

The chime goes again, and I heave myself out of my chair with a groan.

"Yeah?" I say as the door opens, then sigh and press the side of the glass to my temple. "Oh, it's you. Get lost." I turn back, head for the bottle.

With a laugh, the kid follows me into my room like he owns the place.

"The Captain -- Jim -- said you'd be like this."

"I don't need a nursemaid, kid." Pour another three fingers and take a slug. Looks like it's going to be a passing out night.

"Leonard."

How the hell does he get all those extra syllables into my name?

He comes up behind me and presses close. He's hot and hard against me, and my traitorous dick decides it likes this.

I choke and set down my glass with a thump.

"Leonard, I have no desire to be your nursemaid." His hands slide around my ribs and he palms my chest. "Besides, neither of us have the right type of breasts."

I grab his hands, but he continues to rub his dick against my ass and kisses the back of my neck. It feels good -- too damned good for either of our sakes.

"Listen, Chekov--"

"Pavel." More kisses land on the soft skin under my ear. "Call me Pavel."

I try not to show just how much I like those kisses, but I suspect he knows by the way I'm moaning. That bastard Jim probably gave him a list of 'places that melt Bones' before he left.

"_Chek_ov." His lips reach the spot that goes right to my dick, and I'm hard and leaking in about two seconds. I shudder and push him away. "Right type of breasts or not, I know a nursemaid when I see one. Get out of here, kid. I just want to drink in peace."

He chuckles. "The Captain ordered me to make certain you were not alone every evening while he's away. You would not have me disobey orders, would you?"

"It's not every evening, just the first one." I grab my glass and take another drink. "You've checked on me, I'm fine, so you haven't disobeyed anything. Now go find your friends." I wave toward the door. "Go on."

His eyes narrow and his lower lip juts out. A pout, for God's sake. I roll my eyes and stifle a grin. It's almost as endearing as Jim's. What the fuck am I saying? I snatch up the bottle and take it and my glass back to my chair. If I'm going to get plastered, why waste time getting up for refills?

"No, no, no, no!" Scowling, he dashes over and grabs the glass from my hand. Before I can do more than stare at him, he tips it up and downs almost half.

And ends up choking and sputtering and looking like a puppy who got into the hot sauce.

I can't help laughing. "Bourbon a bit strong for you, kid? Why, a little Kentucky sour mash'll put hair on your chest."

He wipes his eyes and coughs. "Is not too strong. Just tastes awful."

I wrap my fingers around his wrist and pull the hand holding the glass toward me. "It's an acquired taste." I pluck the glass from his hand and take another drink. "Can't beat it."

The kid's quiet for a minute; maybe he'll give up and leave me alone. Then I glance up and catch the look on his face -- that big brain of his is working overtime. I've got a bad feeling about this, but before I can say or do anything, he grins and drops to his knees, right between my thighs, and unfastens my trousers.

"I know something that will make it taste better."

He pulls out my dick -- already hard, thanks to his earlier crotch-rubbing -- and takes a sip from the glass, then wraps one hand around my dick and swallows me down.

I yelp and steady the glass before I spill bourbon over everything, and then let me head fall back against the chair. Sweet Jesus, the kid's a fast learner. He does everything I like and then some, and I'll bet my bottom dollar that Jim has coached him. The bourbon's cool in his hot mouth, and stings just enough to make things interesting. Glancing up through those thick lashes, he sucks and licks until my knees shake and I'm gasping like a catfish out of water, about thirty seconds from shooting down his throat.

No fucking way am I letting that happen.

I grab a fistful of his hair and tug until he opens his mouth. I shiver as the cool air hits my dick.

"Up."

He licks his slick, red lips and climbs up my body willingly. Grins like he's won a prize, although God knows I'm not anyone's idea of a trophy. He leans forward for a kiss, but I plant a hand in the middle of his chest.

"Not so fast, kid." I take a drink of bourbon, don't swallow. Then I pull him into a kiss. He starts when he gets a mouthful of liquor, groans, and deepens the kiss. This is good; I can work with this. He's heavy on my thighs, his trousers rubbing against my dick. Backs me off the edge a bit. I break off our kiss, toss back the last slug in the glass, letting it fall to the floor, and pull him down again.

He grinds against me, moaning, as I fumble open his trousers. He's hot and hard in my grasp but I don't want him to come yet, so I give him a squeeze and then let go. Ignore his whine.

"Bed, now." I give him a swat on the ass. "I'm too old to fuck in chairs."

He scrambles off me so fast he almost knees me in the groin. I'm still sitting in the chair, staring, as he tugs off his clothes and then sprawls on the bed.

"Leonard, come!" He spreads his legs, wraps his hand around his dick, and smiles at me like some debauched angel come to rest on my sheets.

I groan. Jim, what kind of Pandora's box have you opened?

I'm loose-jointed by now, far from drunk, but definitely not sober. There's a fire low in my gut; I can't deny I want the kid and I let that show, just a little. He watches, the smile slipping from his lips, as I stand and undress.

It's only two steps to the bed, and I crawl over him on hands and knees. He arches up, reaches for me, but I shrug off his impatient hands and sit back on my heels.

He frowns and props himself up on his elbows. "Is there a problem?"

"A problem?" I laugh and now he looks confused. I give myself a couple of strokes and his eyes follow my hand, his frown fading into hunger. Good. I continue: "We're naked. In bed. We're going to have sex. How's that a problem?"

That generates a smile, but when he reaches for his dick, I bat away his hand.

"That's mine, kid."

Holding down his hips, I lean forward and take him in fast. He lets loose with whole fucking _paragraphs_ of Russian as I suck, his hands tugging at my shoulders, his thighs rigid. I keep up the pressure, ignoring his efforts to pull me around so he can blow me at the same time. That's not what I want. I may have let Chekov convince me to do this, but now it's my turn to drive.

And yeah, I know exactly what that says about my issues.

A few minutes more and he either figures out I'm not going for the sixty-nine, or he's close enough to coming that he can't coordinate his movements. He clutches the sheets, his muscles flexing under my hands, his voice reduced to a hoarse whisper.

I come off him just long enough to get some spit on a finger. When I suck him down again, I slide the tip of my finger into the tight heat of his ass. He bucks and almost chokes me before I pin him down again, take him deeper, slide my finger in a little more.

That sends him over the edge.

I swallow, and swallow again. No trace of bourbon left, all I can taste is the kid's bitter saltiness. He whimpers as I lick him clean, my finger still inside. When I sit back, his ass squeezes my finger and he looks confused. My neglected dick throbs, wants to join in the fun.

I smack his hip and he rolls onto his side.

"Hands and knees." I push him onto his stomach and then pull up his hips. Wiggle my finger once he's in position, and he gasps. It's a stretch, but I reach the vial of slick and open it one-handed, pour some around my finger, still embedded in his ass. He shivers, gooseflesh moving across his glutes, as I work the lube into him.

I'm too far gone to last long. Once I pull out my finger and sink my dick deep into his ass, the banked fire in my gut sparks and flares into life. I grab his hips and let loose, both our groans punctuated by the sound of flesh slapping flesh as I set a punishing pace.

I grind into him and come hard, suns going supernova behind my lids, every muscle tensing, my breath catching until I finish pumping into him. When I loosen my grip on his hips, he collapses with a grunt and I pull free, shaking.

Somehow I manage to land next to him and not on top of him.

We pant for a couple of minutes, too spent to move. I keep waiting for him to bounce out of bed like Jim does -- well, except for that one time -- but he just relaxes further into the mattress. Doesn't look like he's planning on moving any time soon.

Maybe….

I get us covered, and sling an arm across his ribs. He turns toward me, slides closer, his lips brushing my arm and shoulder.

"Jesus," I say when I can speak without gasping. "Don't know if my ol' ticker can take much more of this, kid."

"Pavel, not kid," he murmurs, warm and boneless at my side.

I wait a minute. He breathes steadily, already asleep.

"Pavel," I whisper, and kiss his forehead.

#

I wake with a start, open my eyes, and am met with the sight of Pavel's curls. He's resting his head on my chest, and -- oh, my God -- has his hand wrapped around my morning wood, stroking gently.

When I groan, he scrambles around, facing me with a grin.

"You are awake!" Like it's a big deal.

"It's kind of hard to sleep when someone's jacking you off," I mutter, and pull him up for a quick kiss. "But now that I'm awake, don't let me stop you."

It doesn't take long before I come all over my belly, much to Pavel's delight. He's been rubbing himself against my thigh, and as soon as I'm finished, he grabs his dick and adds to the mess.

Not a bad way to start the day.

We don't have much time to linger, so I bundle him into the shower with me and spend five slippery minutes getting both of us clean.

"I will see you tonight?" he asks as he dresses.

I pull on my shirt. "Maybe."

He grins at me and then disappears out the door. I rub my face and sigh. What the fuck is going on with my life?

#

A quiet day, thank God. A few cases of Thracean flu, a broken arm, nothing much to speak of. I'm going through a couple of reports at my desk when Pavel shows up at the end of my shift. I'm not surprised to see him.

"Hello, Doctor." He stands in my doorway, bouncing a little.

"Ensign." I set down my padd and lean back.

He stops bouncing, squares his shoulders, clears his throat. "Would you like to join me for dinner?"

That does surprise me. I'm not one for socializing and often grab a bite in my office, or on the rare occasion when Jim joins me, in my room. I'm tempted to laugh and shrug off his invitation, but I take a hard look at his face and hesitate. His words are oddly formal, but he looks like he's expecting me to turn him down. Even if we don't have dinner together, he'll probably still drop by later for a quick fuck.

Jesus. Now I'm starting to sound like Jim.

That rattles me, and before I start second guessing myself, I stand. "Sure, kid. Where and when?"

His jaw drops -- I must've surprised him as much as I surprised myself -- but he recovers quickly. "Uh. Now? In the forward lounge?"

My stomach rumbles at the thought of food. Must've forgotten to eat lunch again. "Sounds good to me."

As we walk to the forward lounge, I feel like an ol' coon hound ambling along, an energetic pup at my heels. Chekov -- Pavel -- chatters away, something about a challenge between Sulu and a guy in security. His accent's thicker than usual, probably from nerves, and I'm only tracking about one word in five, but I nod when he looks at me and he seems satisfied.

The place is hopping when we walk in, and after getting our meals, we end up sitting with Scotty and Gaila. They're holding hands and making calf's eyes at each other, so I guess they've patched up whatever was broken last week? Month? To tell the truth, I've lost count of how many times they've broken up and reconciled.

Someone from Engineering dashes up to Scotty. After a hurried conversation he mutters, "bugger, see you later, lass," and takes off at a run.

Gaila turns. "Hey, Doc." She leans forward and her voice turns throaty. "Hi, Pavel."

"Hi." Pavel ducks his head and edges closer to me.

Is she trying to pick him up or just being friendly? Fact is, I don't give a shit which one it is. I clap a hand on Pavel's shoulder and give her my best 'back off' stare.

Her smile grows like a Cheshire cat's, and she winks at me before standing with a breezy, "see you around, boys."

Good. We understand each other.

I drop my hand, turn back to my dinner.

She's only gone a minute before two kids -- are all the crew so young and I just haven't noticed? -- come up and set down their trays across from us, jabbering away about some game they're playing with Pavel. He joins in the conversation without a pause, and I sit back, take it all in. The youth, the enthusiasm.

Damn, I feel ancient.

Food doesn't interest me anymore. What the hell was I thinking? The kid should be fooling around with someone his own age, not with a divorced, bourbon-soaked relic fifteen years his senior who has an unrequited thing for his commanding officer. I don't know if I'm more disgusted with Jim for bringing him into our little arrangement, or with myself for letting the kid manipulate me.

Nah. That's not fair to Jim. I'm responsible for my own actions. When I stand, Pavel -- Chekov -- breaks off and turns to me, his eyebrows halfway to his hairline.

"Don't let me interrupt," I say. Grab my tray and give him a nod. "I enjoyed our meal. Thanks, Ensign."

"But--"

I'm across the room before he can say more. Where to go? Not my quarters, where the sight of my empty bed will send me back to the bottle. I'm old enough, experienced enough to know my limits, and I've about reached them.

So I head back to my office. If the kid tracks me down there, it'll be easier to resist him.

Medical is even quieter than it was earlier, and after I check in with my (bored beyond belief) staff, I settle at my desk and call up a paper on a new treatment for shingles. I'm half-way through before I check the time. It's getting late -- and no, I'm not disappointed that Chekov didn't follow me.

Definitely not disappointed.

It's between-shift quiet when I finish the paper and walk to my quarters. I'll have a small bourbon before I go to bed, just to loosen up.

My door slides open, and I'm half-way to the bottle before a quiet rustle makes me jump like peas on a hot griddle.

"What the... "

"I've been waiting for you, Leonard."

I can't believe it. Pavel -- the kid's -- stretched out on my bed, naked as a jaybird. He looks over his shoulder at me and wiggles his ass.

"I am ready," he says, and spreads his legs. His hole glistens.

I don't know if I'm more angry or turned on by the sight. The little shit broke into my quarters, commandeered my bed, and expects me to fuck him.

My dick throbs.

Suddenly my anger bleeds away as fast as it came. I rub my face and sigh.

"Listen, kid," I begin.

"_Pavel_." He climbs off the bed, his dick hard, his jaw set. "Why did you leave?"

"I'm too old for you," I say, picking up a glass and turning back to my bottle. "Stick with your friends. You share the same interests, you can talk to them. Don't waste time with me."

He says something in Russian -- sounds pretty ripe -- and grabs my arm, pulling me around to face him. The empty glass falls to the floor.

"You are the most _stubborn_ man." He shakes my arm once, cups his other hand around my cheek. "I apologize for not including you in our conversation. I just…" He shrugs, looks at me with an expression in those eyes that takes me out at the knees. "I don't want them. I want _you_."

I've already lost. I know it. I don't even try to push him away when he kisses me, his hands sliding under my clothes. He moans when I cup his ass and pull him against me, shivers and moans again when I slip two fingers inside.

I don't care that I'm too old for him. I don't care that I'll feel guilty as hell tomorrow. I turn him around and bend him over the chair and take him, hard.

After we catch our breath and my knees stop shaking, we stumble to bed. He tugs off my boots and the rest of my clothes, then wraps himself around me and is asleep in a heartbeat.

I blink at the whirling ceiling. I feel drunk. I've managed to hold my own with Jim all these years, more-or-less kept my self-respect through all his sleeping around. I never figured an eighteen-year-old genius with a smile sunnier than a spring morning and a stubborn streak even bigger than mine would be my undoing.

#

We don't eat together all the time, but he shares my bed every night. And the kid's more than just a good fuck, although the sex is pretty damned good. He's funny and smarter than me by at least three-fold, considerate and kinder than I was at his age.

I keep telling him to go hang out with his friends, and sometimes he agrees, disappearing for the evening, showing up before I fall asleep, then blowing me or letting me fuck him. Sometimes I'm stuck in Sickbay until late, but when I stumble back to my quarters, aching with exhaustion, he's snoring softly on my bed. I try not to wake him, but he stirs when I slip under the covers, murmurs in Russian as he wraps himself around me.

I haven't slept this soundly in years.

One morning we're dosing in bed before the alarm goes off, and he calls me Lyonya.

"It is a special name, because you are special to me," he says, laughing when I blush.

"And what can I call you?" I ask, pulling him close and kissing his temple.

"Pasha," he whispers.

"Pasha."

I ignore the alarm and proceed to show him how special he is to me until we're both late for our shifts.

A few days later, the ship's gossip mill picks up on the fact that Pasha and I are doing more than having the occasional tryst, and it's not long afterward when Sulu shows up at my office.

I come around my desk. "Is there a problem, Mr. Sulu?" He looks all right -- no evidence of pain, no obvious injury or external symptoms of illness -- but that doesn't mean much.

"May I speak with you privately?" He shifts, as if he's uncomfortable.

"Sure." I go back to my chair -- most patients like that hint of authority, though I don't care one way or the other -- and motion him to sit. "How can I help you?"

"It's about Pavel -- Ensign Chekov." Before I can wrap my mind around _that_ subject, he leans forward in the chair, gives me the hairy eyeball. "He's very... attached to you."

He pauses, obviously waiting for me to respond. Dear God, is Sulu shouldering a parent's responsibility to vet a -- whatever we are? Are all of Pasha's friends going to quiz me about our relationship? My stomach twists at the thought.

"He's a good kid." I don't want to talk about this, and have to force out the words.

Sulu scowls, but what the fuck else should I say? My feelings toward Pasha are none of his business.

He stands, crosses his arms over his chest. "Don't hurt him."

I get to my feet, return his glare. "I don't intend to." The chances are better that Pasha will be the one to get bored and leave, but if Sulu can't see that, I'm not going to be the one to enlighten him.

"I believe you," he says slowly. Suddenly he relaxes, and the corners of his mouth twitch. "Don't take it personally. Pavel's young, and head over heels for you. We -- his friends -- were concerned that you didn't feel the same way."

Jesus. I sigh. "So you're the emissary?" I guess I should be glad they didn't all drop by together. But... Head over heels? Nice to know I'm not alone.

"Yeah." He heads for the door, glances back over his shoulder. "By the way, Pavel doesn't know I'm here."

"Well, he's not going to hear about it from _me_."

He laughs. "Don't look so worried, Doc. No one's going to challenge you to a duel."

The door closes behind him.

He doesn't need to add: unless I hurt Pasha. Yeah, I figured that out on my own.

#

Jim's been on leave for three weeks now, and I haven't heard a word from him. Not that I expected to. I'm sure he's been busy between the leadership conference and his brother's wedding and all his extra-curricular activities. By now, he's probably slept his way through the wedding party and is working on the locals.

Funny thing is, I miss him, but not as much as I thought I would. Of course, that probably has to do with the warm, sleepy bundle in my arms right now.

We're not in bed -- yet. Today was a bitch, thanks to the bone-headed pranks of a couple of cadets, which resulted in a dozen injuries ranging from broken bones to a fractured skull. When I finally got back to my quarters, Pasha took one look at me, settled me on the sofa, and poured me a stiff one. He sprawled beside me with a yawn and prodded me to talk about my day.

Half-an-hour later, I'm nursing the last of my drink, letting the liquor burn away the anger and weariness, and he's dozing, his head on my thigh. He nuzzles my belly and grins when I huff and try to push him away.

"You are feeling better, Lyonya," he murmurs. "Good."

I thread my fingers through his hair and tug gently. "I thought you were asleep."

"Mmmmm." He levers himself up and steals a kiss. "Not yet. First, I must fuck you."

That startles me. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." He tries for a bad boy sneer, but can't hold it. His eyes cloud as he clambers around and straddles my thighs, his hands hard on my shoulders, his face close to mine. "You let Jim fuck you. Why not me?"

I don't want to meet his eyes, let him see what I feel, so I stare at the corner of the ceiling. I let Jim fuck me, because that's the only way I can have him. Why not Pasha? Because I'm older? Bigger? Want to pretend I'm in control? I know it shouldn't matter who's fucking whom, and that catching isn't a sign of weakness, but I'm not the clearest thinker on the subject.

Just how much of a hypocrite am I?

His fingers tighten and he pulls me to him, rests his chin on my shoulder. "Is okay," he says, his voice very gentle. "It is difficult for you, no? To let go? Let someone in?"

I chuckle with more than a hint of bitterness. "You're pretty wise for someone so young. Since when did you become ship's counselor?" My eyes burn and I squeeze them shut, hold him close.

"Not wise, no. I know you. Forget what I said. We have many other things we can do."

His hands move across my back, stroking, soothing. I should resent being babied -- would do so from anyone else, even Jim. Hell, _especially_ Jim. For some reason I don't mind Pasha's caresses, the way he croons in my ear.

But I'm not going to forget it. Can't, because it'll end up being the elephant in the room with us.

I kiss the soft skin below his ear. "Pasha?"

"Yes?"

"Fuck me."

He leans back, face as long as a basset hound's, his eyes searching mine. "Are you sure?"

I let out a shaky breath. "I just said so, didn't I?" Pull him into a kiss that leaves both of us panting.

He's not gentle, not tender, but I can feel the difference in his hands when he pushes me toward the bed. He holds me like I'm precious, the same way my careful fingers held Memaw's quilt on chilly fall evenings when I was ten.

Then I'm buck naked on my back, legs in the air, his long fingers deep inside me. Don't know how I got here, but I don't care. It was inevitable. I knew he'd get under my skin, make himself a part of me.

He's sweating as he finally eases in, stretching me wide. I groan, wipe my hand over his damp face. My ass burns, my gut aches, but I force myself to look at his face -- God, he's so young -- and watch his dark eyes hide behind heavy lids, watch his lips open, the tip of his tongue poke out just enough to make me want to suck on it. He goes slow, but it's a struggle. I can see the battle in his quivering muscles, the way he bites his lower lip, in every catch of breath.

"Go on," I urge, tug on him with shaking hands. "Let go, Pasha."

He fights a dozen heartbeats longer, then suddenly gives in. His hips surge forward, he grunts as he takes me.

I know this. Know how to brace my arms, tighten my thighs, breathe shallowly as I'm bent in two. He hits my prostate once, twice. I see stars, feel my nerves explode as I come on my belly and chest. With a final push that almost snaps me in two, he shouts as he climaxes, his entire body quivering. Then he collapses on me, a deadweight.

We're wrecked. Every muscle sapped, bodies spent. I wince as he pulls out -- am I that out of practice? -- and manage to settle him beside me. Draw up the covers over clammy skin, I'll deal with cleaning up in the morning.

Pasha's already asleep, and it's only a minute or two before I follow him into darkness.

# # #

Jim's pretty sure most of the officers at the conference could have led the conference, so he's not sure what the point was supposed to be. He hadn't learned anything that the last year of active duty hadn't already taught him, and after a disastrous attempt at socializing with the rest of the attendees ended with him drunk off his ass and being rude to a hot, bendy Trill named Emony, he stuck to water when he was out with the others, and made it clear he wasn't interested in hooking up. And how fucked up was that? The conference has been two weeks of wasted time, time he could have spent on _Enterprise_, with….

Yeah, still can't go there, even in his own head, and isn't that just typical? He finds something he wants, and he has to fuck around and do the exact opposite of what he needs to do to keep it. He's sure by turns that he's either fucked things up completely, or that everything is fine, and the more he tries to not think about the whole situation with him and Bones, and God, Chekov, the more he dwells on it. The whole thing is just…messy, and no matter what other people might think about him, he doesn't like messy.

He needs to get through this wedding, and back home, back to the _Enterprise_, so he can deal with this.

#

"Jimmy!" As he steps off the shuttle, Jim hears Aurelan and his mom a split second before the two of them nearly knock him off his feet. George isn't too far behind them, hand out to shake with Jim before he pulls him in for a hug, too. The trip back to the farm is noisy, with everyone talking at once, asking Jim how he's doing, what the ship and crew are like. As Jim loves the crew almost as much as he loves the _Enterprise_, he doesn't have a problem answering any of their questions, and chatting about the ship carries them through dinner.

It's not until the next morning over coffee that his mom manages to corner him.

"What is it? I haven't seen you like this for a long time."

He considers playing dumb, but that's never worked with his mother. "It's nothing, Mom. I've just had something on my mind lately." He refills his cup, stalling for some time. "I think I might have figured it out, though, and I just need to get back to _Enterprise_ and take care of it."

His mother just stares for a minute before she shakes her head and smiles. He's not sure he wants to know, but he's going to ask anyway.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

"Oh, Jimmy. Is it Leonard?"

Fuck. He walked right into that one. "It's complicated."

His mom just keeps smiling and says, "I notice you didn't deny that it's Leonard, and that makes it easy. You can't doubt how he feels about you."

"How he feels…? Mom. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh. You really don't know?" When he looks across the table, he sees she has her hand pressed to her mouth, and he can't tell if it's because she's trying to keep from laughing or crying.

"No, Mom. I don't know, so why don't you tell me?"

"He loves you, Jim." Her voice quavers the tiniest bit as she speaks, so Jim goes with crying.

"Really? Because he's never said anything to me."

"He's never said anything to me either, but that doesn't mean it's not true. I've seen how he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. I saw it the first time you two came back here on a break -- maybe he hasn't said anything to you, but it was plain as day to me."

She pauses for a long stretch of seconds before she speaks again. "Your dad used to do the same thing before he finally asked me out." She looks wistful, but Jim doesn't see the same depth of sadness in her, and he thinks that's okay. It's been a long time, and regardless of what's happened in the past, he wants her to be happy.

When she touches his hand, Jim realizes they've been sitting quietly for several minutes. "What are you thinking, Jimmy?"

"I'm thinking this is maybe not as complicated as I thought." He doesn't mention the new wrinkle he added, doesn't mention that he's not the only person Bones might have feelings for thanks to Jim and his need for variety. He figures his mom might slap him alongside the head for that one, and he's not sure he wouldn't deserve it.

#

The wedding is beautiful, just like the bridesmaids, and of course, the bride, and all Jim can do is fidget and wish for it to be over, so he can leave. The week leading up to it is like torture -- George keeps pushing members of the wedding party at him, and he pointedly ignores all of the flirting and come-ons, and spends a lot of time thinking about Bones.

Now that he knows, it seems obvious -- he'd just assumed Bones was more discreet about his other sex partners, but if his mom's right, it's safe to assume there was no one to be discreet about. Until he brought Pavel into the middle of things, that is. And damn it all -- he'd all but encouraged Pavel to fuck Bones while he was gone. He's hoping he hasn't screwed things up too badly, but he won't know until he gets home.

And fuck it -- he doesn't care if he's supposed to be on leave for another week -- he's going back to the ship, and he and Bones are going to sit down and talk this out. He knows what he wants, and he hopes his mother is right about what Bones wants, too. He still doesn't know what they're going to do about Pavel, but he figures they'll worry about that after he's fucked Bones through the mattress and told him he loves him.

His mom practically pushes him out the door the morning after the reception, with a 'Go get him, Jimmy' and a kiss, and he's really glad he kept most of the details to himself. He can't imagine how much more this past week would have sucked if he'd had to deal with her disappointment on top of everything else.

#

Luck is on his side and a ship going in the direction he needs, so he's back on _Enterprise_ in record time. He's not even going to stop at his own quarters -- he wants to see Bones that much -- so he asks the computer to locate Doctor McCoy. He's in his quarters, which is perfect for Jim's purposes, and he heads off in that direction, still trying to figure out what he's going to say.

He doesn't bother with the chime, just uses his command override to open the door. It's dark in the main room, but there's a soft spill of light from the bedroom, which surprises Jim -- he figured Bones would be sleeping at this hour. He sets his pack down near the door, and crosses the room. He stops in the doorway because Bones isn't alone.

Pavel is with him.

He's leaning back against Bones, held close against his chest as Bones fucks him from behind. They're gorgeous together, bright gold and rosy pink and glossy black and deep tan. Pavel's head is thrown back against Bones' shoulder and he's talking, broken phrases in Russian and Standard, and damned if Bones doesn't look like he understands, because he starts to fuck Pavel harder even as he wraps his hand around Pavel's dick, and it's all over after a few strokes. Pavel comes with a shout, and Bones is right there with him, biting down on the side of Pavel's neck and groaning aloud.

When they catch their breath, Pavel twists his fingers in Bones' hair and turns his head to kiss him. When they part, Jim hears Bones whisper something, and he sees Pavel's eyes widen before he whispers back. Pavel goes easily when Bones tips them on their sides, turning to wrap himself around Bones, leaning up to kiss him again before he settles with his hand pressed to Bones' chest.

Jim's heart clenches as he watches them -- something changed while he was gone, and it feels like there's no room for him anymore. They're obviously happy, and good for each other, if the smile on Bones' face is indication, but God, it hurts to see it. He's finally gotten his head out of his ass, and figured out what he wants, and he's too god damn late.

# # #

I barely hear it, just a little gasp, but when I turn all I can see is Jim's pale face and stricken expression, as if he's been gutted, and then he runs from my quarters.

"Jim, you damned idiot!"

Of all the times for him to unexpectedly walk in on me. He couldn't arrive when I was missing him so much it felt like a hole had been carved in my chest, or when Pasha and I were just fooling around and he could join in the fun. No, Jim would do it when I finally admit my feelings for Pasha out loud. If that horn-dog moron of a Captain is thinking what I _think_ he's thinking...

Pasha sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as I throw on clothes.

"Lyonya? Is there an emergency?"

If only it were that simple. I tell him what happened in a few words. His eyes grow wide.

"So now he thinks you do not love him? That you love me, instead?"

I nod and sit to pull on my boots. "Got it in one, kid."

He snorts and scrambles out of bed.

"Where are you going?" I ask as he grabs his trousers.

"To find Jim, of course," he says, fastening his fly. He picks up his shirt from the floor. "So you can tell him you love him _and_ me, and then we can have more hot sex."

I blink at him for a couple of seconds. Wish it was that simple. And then it hits me, what a lucky bastard I am.

Pasha's finger-combing his hair when I wrap my hands around his biceps and pull him to me for a quick kiss.

"Thanks," I say.

He gives me a puzzled look. "_Pozhalujsta_. But why are you thanking me?"

"For understanding that it's not either-or."

He rolls his eyes. "Of course I understand. Is the same for me."

I feel more than a little breathless at his words. Don't know why that surprises me, but it does. Sure, I understand that Pasha's fond of me, and no eighteen-year-old's going to turn down regular sex, but I figured his sights were set on Jim.

Guess I was wrong.

"You did not know that? How I feel about you? Foolish man." He kisses me firmly, then the corners of his mouth curl up. "And now let us find Jim and knock some sense into him. Computer: locate Captain Kirk."

"Captain Kirk is on the bridge."

"The bridge?" I sigh. "Great." Nothing like a public confrontation to fuel the ship's gossip mill.

Pasha takes my hand and tugs me toward the door. "Come, Lyonya. We have a stubborn Captain to convince."

#

We're almost to the bridge when Spock rounds the corner in front of us. Damn. What Uhura sees in him I will never understand. I spare a moment to hope he'll ignore us, but he stops, lifts an eyebrow, and waits until we reach him before speaking.

"Doctor. Ensign." He nods at each of us, showing all the animation of a medical probe.

"Aren't you supposed to be on duty?" I ask.

"I was, until the Captain returned and relieved me."

I glance at Pasha. He shrugs.

"Is there a problem?" Spock's cool gaze transfers from me to Pasha.

I sigh. For all his sleeping around, Jim's a fairly private person about emotional stuff, and God knows I don't want everyone on the ship to know my business. I expect Pasha feels the same.

"Ensign Chekov and I need to speak with the Captain -- privately."

Before I can continue, Spock taps his communicator. "Spock to Uhura."

"Uhura here," she says, her voice blurred as if with sleep.

"I apologize for disturbing you again, Nyota. Doctor McCoy and Ensign Chekov are on their way to see the Captain, and I shall return with them to the bridge." He sounds gentle, and there's an expression on his face....

I look away, wishing I hadn't seen what I all too clearly saw. Pasha moves to my side, bumping my shoulder with his, our hands brushing.

"I believe your speculations are correct," Spock murmurs. "I shall join you at the end of shift. Spock out."

"Speculations?" I ask, turning to him, my voice sharp. "Are you and Lieutenant Uhura gossiping? About... " My hand waves between Pasha, me, and the direction of the bridge. "..._us_?"

Spock hesitates, almost as if he's embarrassed. I'd be amused if I wasn't so angry.

"I am the only person privy to Lieutenant Uhura's conjectures regarding the relationships between you, Ensign Chekov and the Captain."

"Why you green-blooded... You have a lot of nerve--"

Pasha's hand stops me. His cheeks are pink, but he doesn't seem bothered that we're the subject of _speculations_ and _conjectures_.

"Doctor, shouldn't we speak with the Captain before discussing this with anyone else?"

Deep breath. Another. "Yes, you're right, Ensign." I glare at Spock and then head down the corridor. "I'll deal with you two later."

Pasha says something -- to Spock, I assume -- because he speaks too softly for me to catch more than the words "worried" and "cranky."

"I am _not_ cranky," I snap over my shoulder.

He appears beside me and grins. "But you are _always_ cranky." With a shrug, Pasha continues. "Is okay. I am used to it."

I don't bother to stifle my sigh. I hate being managed, but at least my anger's gone, banished by an eighteen-year-old's smile. How the hell did this end up being my life?

We take the turbolift to the bridge in silence. Pasha sticks to me like a burr, radiating warmth all down my left side. I want to back him up to the bulkhead and kiss him silly. Would do it, too, if Spock wasn't standing right beside us, cool as a cucumber, staring at the door.

The lift stops and the door opens. I follow Spock out, Pasha on my heels. Someone's sentence trails off, and I feel as if the entire bridge crew's eyes are on us.

"Spock?" Jim sounds surprised. "Why are you--"

"He returned at my request," I say.

Jim's eyes widen when he sees Pasha, but he recovers quickly. "Your request? You have a problem, Bones?"

"A _problem_?" I can't believe my ears. "You damned well know--" Pasha coughs and I break off. Clear my throat before continuing. "You've just returned from extended leave, Captain. I want you to come to sickbay for a--"

"I'm fine, Doctor." Jim waves his hand and turns toward the viewscreen. "I don't need--"

"Captain," Spock interrupts, in his no-bullshit tone. "May I remind you that Doctor McCoy, as Chief Medical Officer, has the right to insist that you submit to a post-leave examination."

Jim frowns but doesn't move.

Shit. I don't want to call him out in front of the crew, but he's backing me into a corner.

Hands raised as if he's trying to gentle a skittish colt, Pasha steps in front of me. "Doctor McCoy is concerned about your hearing, Captain."

That gets Jim's attention. His frown deepens into a scowl as he looks at Pasha. "My hearing?"

"Yes." Pasha nods, and I try to stifle a smile. I think I see where this is going.

Pasha continues. "He believes you misunderstood something you overheard."

"I don't think so." Jim glances at me, then looks away. "The meaning was _very_ clear."

"Oh, for God's sake, Jim! If the past three years haven't convinced you... " Suddenly I don't care where we are or who's watching. I cross to Jim, grab the chair arm and swing him around to face me. I hold his gaze, the blue of his eyes burning hot. "Mr. Spock, I'm putting the Captain on medical leave for the next twenty-four hours."

"For what reason?" Jim asks, not giving a millimeter.

"For _this_ reason." I grasp his shoulders, pull him to me and kiss him. Hard.

Someone gasps. Jim just sits there, not jerking away, but not kissing me back, either. I soften our kiss, stroke the nape of his neck, and he suddenly melts against me. His arms slide around my back, his tongue darts out, and he's kissing me -- not his usual demanding kiss, but something gentler, more tentative. He moans into my mouth.

Thank God.

By the time we resurface, we're gasping. I try not to listen to the buzz of conversation from the bridge crew, and instead focus on Jim, who blinks at me, his eyes hazy.

"You mean it, Bones? But what about Pavel? Did I really misunderstand...?"

"No." I shrug. "That's true, too."

Before I can say anything else, Pasha wraps one arm around my shoulders and gives Jim a solemn look. "For me, as well."

Jim's stares at us, his mouth open. "But... " he finally says.

I roll my eyes. "If _that_ didn't convince you, I'll just have to--"

"Thank you, Doctor," says Spock. He practically lifts Jim from the chair and urges all three of us toward the lift door. "Captain, you are relieved of duty." The door opens and we stumble in. "Enjoy your leave," he says softly before the doors close, cutting off the sound of clapping.

We stand in silence for a moment.

"Well." Pasha takes a deep breath and taps the controls. "That will give the crew something to gossip about."

Jim chuckles. "You mean the CMO molesting the Captain on the bridge?"

"Oh, God." I slump against the bulkhead. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"Probably not." Jim cups his hand on my shoulder. "So make it up to me."

"I think," says Pasha, moving behind Jim and wrapping his arms around Jim's chest, "that we have missed you very much, Jim, and it is time for sex."

I meet Jim's gaze. "Out of the mouths of babes."

"You are obsessed with my age." Pasha presses his lips to Jim's nape.

"No." Jim shudders and his eyelids flutter shut. "No, we aren't."

I push myself away from the bulkhead and lean against Jim, sandwiching him between the two of us. "You'll keep us young, Pasha."

The doors slide open onto a thankfully empty corridor. I reluctantly step away from Jim's solid body, and Pasha sighs as he does the same. Nothing's said, but we all turn toward my quarters.

I manage to wait until the door closes behind us before grabbing Jim's shoulders and shaking him. He doesn't fight back, just takes it.

"You are the _most_... " I gasp.

I pull him against me, wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his shoulder.

"Damn it, Jim. I can't believe that after three years you were just going to _walk away_."

"Hey." His voice is soft, and he strokes my back. "It's okay. You know, Bones, much more of this, and you'll ruin your reputation as the grouchiest doctor in Starfleet."

I take a deep breath, raise my head and meet his gaze. "You think so? Remember, I can still make your life a living hell."

He breaks into a smile so broad it's like the sun rising. "That's the Bones I know and love."

My gut does a flip-flop at his words, but I just glare at him. "Same here, you bastard."

"_Slava boga_. Yes, yes, and I love you both. Now, Jim, please to come fuck me."

We turn at that. Pasha's sprawled on the bed, stark naked, stroking his erection. When the hell did he have time to strip?

Jim laughs and pulls off his shirt. "God, I've missed you, kid."

I watch him kick off his boots and shuck his trousers, then clamber onto the bed. Can't take my eyes off them -- Jim looks good, tanned and fit. He's on his hands and knees over Pasha, kissing him lightly.

Pasha groans and deepens their kiss, grabbing Jim's ass. It's a damned fine ass, and my dick quickly fills at the sight. I know what I'm going to do.

My boots and clothes land on the floor, and when I crawl between his legs, Jim breaks off their kiss and gives me a heavy-eyed glance over his shoulder.

"No prep, Bones. Want to feel you."

"Jesus!" I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the head of my dick. Just the thought of taking Jim, hot and tight, is almost enough to send me over the edge.

He chuckles. A smack, flesh hitting flesh, and Jim yelps.

"Don't tease," says Pasha.

I open my eyes. Jim's rubbing a red handprint on his ass. Good for Pasha. I grab the slick from the bedside table and carefully coat my dick.

Pasha palms Jim's cheeks, spreads him wide for me.

I lean forward, steady myself with one hand on Jim's back while I guide my dick. I pause when I'm pressed against him but not quite inside.

"You want this, Jim? Want me to fuck you?" My voice is rough with the strain of holding back.

"Yes, damn it!" He shifts back, impatient, but I grab his hip and hold him. He groans, lets his head fall forward.

Pasha's hands move over Jim's back, then around to his chest. He does something that makes Jim gasp and his arms shake.

"You like that?" Pasha murmurs. "You like your nipples pinched?"

Jim gasps again, shivers.

Perfect. I grasp Jim's hips and push slowly forward. He keens as he opens for me, lifts his head and struggles to draw breath. I don't pause, don't let up the pressure until I'm seated deep inside. My world narrows to the feel of Jim, nothing but Jim surrounding me. My heart pounds and I pant softly. God. So damned good.

Pasha's talking again, his voice gentle, soothing. He pulls Jim down for a kiss, then his hands slide down Jim's chest. His fingers brush my balls and the base of my dick as he strokes Jim. I pull out a little, sink back in, and with a groan, Jim loosens a little around me.

I try to keep the pace slow, measured, but I can't. Jim rocks back quickly, as if he's as desperate for this as I am. Pasha's hands speed up and suddenly Jim stops and groans. His arms give way and Pasha holds him tightly. I only need another few strokes before I thrust hard and come.

Somehow I manage to pull out and flop onto the bed beside Jim and Pasha, who are pressed together chest-to-chest, Jim's ass still held high. Pasha grunts and shifts Jim off to roll onto his other side. Jim's eyes are closed, and he looks down for the count.

But Pasha's dick is hard and bobs as he breathes.

"Give me a minute to catch my breath," I say, stroking his cheek, struggling to keep my own eyes open. "And I'll take care of that."

He snorts and reaches over me, retrieving the bottle of slick and holding it up like a prize. "I do not think so, Lyonya. You're falling asleep as we speak." He pushes my shoulder. "Turn over and let me fuck you."

My dick twitches at the thought. I groan at actually having to move, but do as he asks.

He gently fingers me -- good thing, because I'm incredibly sensitive right now -- and I let my eyes fall shut. What the hell did I do to deserve this?

Pasha wraps his arm around my chest as his dick slowly fills me, and he murmurs something in Russian in my ear.

"What're you saying?"

He chuckles, gives my nipple a tweak. "I will give you lessons soon, so you will understand. And maybe speak to me, too."

"I'm too old to learn Russian." I lift his hand from my chest and kiss his fingers. Shiver as he hits my prostate. Too bad I'm not ten years younger -- I'd be ready for another round.

He kisses my temple and continues his long, easy strokes. Whispers a few words under his breath.

I haven't told Pasha yet, but I've been studying Russian for a couple weeks now. I don't understand more than a couple words, but when he says when he says one that I recognize, I repeat it softly in English.

"Beautiful."

Can't tell him that. Not yet. I don't know if I'll ever be able to say it to Jim.

And then Pasha says another word I recognize.

"Love."

Yeah. I'll say that to both of them soon.

Even though they already know it.

~ end ~


End file.
